Once Might Have Been
by Willow-Bee the Cat
Summary: What do you do when your memories aren’t your own? When everything you think you knew about yourself is a lie? A Harry Potter DC Comics Crossover.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own or make a profit from Harry Potter or DC Comics.

Rating: T for now, the rating may go up.

Spoilers: All seven books for Harry Potter. Pre the most recent Crisis in DC Comics, I think. I haven't really decided yet

Summary: What do you do when your memories aren't your own? When everything you think you knew about yourself is a lie?

Pairings: There will be ones later, I think, but for now, nothing. I'm open to suggestions, by the way. And there will be NO Hermione/Luna, for reasons which will become apparent in a couple chapters.

Author's Notes: This is my take on a very common story line. The cliché of Hermione Granger truly being a pureblood or the daughter of Severus Snape or the daughter of squibs is relatively common. This is and isn't like that. I'll leave you to figure out how this story differs from those, though I will tell you that whoever her parents may or may not be, they are not cannon Harry Potter characters. Neither, however, are they OCs.

* * *

Prologue

A young, pale police officer sat on the steps of the small brownstone, pale face between his knees. He'd already lost his lunch and the man couldn't help but wonder if he'd loose his breakfast as well.

He fought down another wave of nausea as Detective Tate walked out of the building. A sickly salty-sweat odor drifted out of the open doorway.

It was rare, even in a city such as this to see such a crime scene. And once again, the young police officer's mind shuddered away from the images he'd seen.

The coroners weren't even sure how many had died, from what the young police officer had heard. Whoever had been there had been torn limb from limb as if all the bones in their body had been torn apart, taking the flesh with them.

He glanced up. It was all he could do not to flinch back. The ambulance hadn't left yet. With a large blanket wrapped around her sat a little girl so traumatized by whatever had happened that she did only as instructed, no more, no less. Nobody had been able to get her to talk yet, though the young police officer doubted that anybody had tried too hard.

It was her screams which had alerted a passerby to the crimes which had happened inside the brownstone, though doubtless there were still many horrors which had not yet been uncovered. The girl had stopped the moment the police arrived.

And the young police officer couldn't help but to think cynically that the neighbors had been aware-at least somewhat, to the fact that something was not right with the residents of this building, yet they had done nothing. They'd done nothing, though doubtless the little girl had screamed and begged for mercy before, though doubtless, the smell emanating from the building had reached them, though doubtless they'd heard the little girl's screams this morning.

Having had the chance to calm down slightly, Johnny Brightwaters stood. No matter how horrifying the contents of the small house, he had to go back in. He just hoped he wouldn't throw up again.


	2. Forgetfulness

Author's Note: Before anybody says anything, this story will be somewhat slow paced. I think. And DC characters won't just drop in out of the blue. At least not for the first couple of chapters. Once again, I think.

* * *

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger had had a happy, carefree childhood. Perhaps this fact, so incongruous with her times at Hogwarts should have been her first clue. But it did not alert her to the problem-for there was a problem.

But Hermione so rarely thought of her pre-Hogwarts years or her life in any way, outside of its relation to her closest friend, Harry Potter. Though Ron spoke of his family often and Harry slightly less so, neither asked after Hermione's family, beyond the occasional dental related query. As it was, Hermione had little cause to think of them.

And perhaps she would have continued this way, thinking everything was normal, if not for one question.

In another universe, Hermione would have sat between Angelina and Katie, of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. The team had all but adopted not only Harry, but his friends as well, the year before. In this universe, Hermione had run into Neville on the train whilst searching for her missing friends. And so, the second year sat across from Neville at the end of the table and as the first years were sorted, they took up seats next to the duo.

Hermione was all but curled in on herself, worry taking precedence over the sorting. She couldn't help but wonder what new danger Harry and Ron had managed to get themselves into-for surely they must be in danger. Sometimes it seemed to Hermione that she was the voice of reason in their little group, the only reason the boys hadn't done something foolish enough to get themselves killed. And she knew quite well that it had been her who had ensured they'd received the relatively good grades they had the year before. Sometimes, Hermione admitted to herself-but only when nobody else was about-she felt more like their mother than their friend.

She glanced up to look at Ginny, waiting for her turn to be sorted. The girl looked terrified. She was so pale and shaky that Hermione wondered if she would faint. Obviously the girl was scared she'd be sorted into a House other than Gryffindor. A small part of Hermione admitted that it was a well founded fear. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley might not do anything, but her brothers-particularly Ron-would make her life miserable if that happened.

A slight girl with long, colorless straggly curls spoke to Ginny quietly. Judging by the way the girl acted, she was probably a friend of Ginny's.

"Lovegood, Luna," called out Professor McGonagall.

The long haired girl skipped-Hermione couldn't help but blink-up to the stool and put on the Sorting Hat. Kicking her feet boredly, Hermione saw the girl whisper, no doubt speaking to the Hat.

It was all Hermione could do not to show a physical reaction as she remembered the Sorting Hat's words to her, a year before.

_A good mind. And so curious. Perhaps Ravenclaw… No. I think not-you are much more than your studies. Your loyalty to your kith and kin is to be commended. Such a hard worker too. Hufflepuff would be a good fit. Then again, Courage and Bravery such as yours is so rarely seen. Gryffindor would be a much better fit._

_'What are you talking about?' Hermione had thought at the Hat._

_All in good time. All in good time. Now, better be GRYFFINDOR._

Hermione still didn't know what courage or loyalty the Sorting Hat had been talking about, though she had been happy with being sorted into Gryffindor. She hadn't really put much thought into the conversation later on either.

Eventually, the Hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

Luna stood and removed the Hat. She glanced around, all but ignoring the applause from her new House. For a second, her unfocussed silvery gaze landed upon Hermione. Their eyes met. A moment later, Luna skipped over to the Ravenclaw table and joined her fellow first years.

Hermione lost track of the conversation happening around her as her mind drifted. She knew those eyes. Hermione didn't know how or when, but she'd seen those eyes before. Mind now racing, she watched unseeing as the sorting continued and eventually ended.

"-mione? Hermione, did you hear the question?" said Neville.

She blinked, chain of thought broken and looked over at her friend. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"We're talking about our first bits of accidental magic," he explained as he motioned toward the new Gryffindors. "I just told them about mine and we were wondering what yours was."

For the third time in less than a year, Hermione's mind blanked. She found herself incapable of answering the question. At least this time there were no angry mountain trolls or murderous Devil's Snare.

She couldn't remember. She couldn't think of a single instance of magic-accidental or otherwise-from before she received her wand.

Neville gave her a concerned look as his rarely seen protective instincts took over. "Colin, why don't you tell us about yours."

Why couldn't she remember doing some form of accidental magic? Surely she must have done something. Maybe she'd forgotten. Maybe it had occurred when she was too young to remember.

* * *

"… do you?" said Hermione.

Lavender smiled as she buttoned her Victorian style nightgown. "Of course I remember my first be of accidental magic. My mother tried to make be wear this absolutely horrid jumper with fuzzy balls on it and it started to smoke. Luckily, Mum had her wand one her. It burned a hole strait through the rug."

"I don't remember mine," said Parvati. "But I do remember my second. I was about to get my nose pierced and I was so scarred of the pain after getting my ears pierced that I apparated to my aunt's house."

Hermione listened as the two girls compared accidental magic stories as her mind drifted once again. All the first and second years remembered, if not their first bit of accidental magic, then some other incident when they'd used magic accidentally as a child. All except for her. But surely seventeen was not a large enough pool for proper statistics. Perhaps polling the entire house was in order.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_We're very happy to hear from you so soon after the beginning of the school year. Although your father and I must ask what you mean be flying car. Surely your friends did not do something so foolish. _

_What do you mean by "accidental magic?" You often did magic once you received your wand…_

Hermione skimmed the rest of the letter, pausing at one sentence.

_We'd no idea you were a witch until that nice Ministry official-Mr. Peter Williamson I believe his name was-told us._

She put down the letter from her parents. How could they not know? Had she really not done any magic before receiving her wand?

Careful questioning had revealed that she was the only Gryffindor not to remember her first-or any-bit of accidental magic. Maybe she should poll the other Houses.

This was not normal. At least…. She didn't think it was.

It was obvious what had to be done. Gathering several pieces of parchment, quills, and colored inks, she packed them into her bag before heading to the library.

The boys wouldn't notice that she was researching anything other than school work. They so rarely joined her in the library.

* * *

Hermione seriously considered dropping or throwing the book in her hands.

Not that she would actually do so. Hermione cared for books too much to do such a thing.

A week of research had revealed some very worrying things. All the books agreed on these six points:

_1. Any child powerful enough to attend a school of magic, and quite a few who were not, had too much magic to contain without the occasional release._

_2. This release came in the form of accidental magic, which relieved the pressure of magical expansion and allowed for healthy growth._

_3. All healthy witches and wizards could have occasional bouts of accidental magic well into their thirteenth or fourteenth year, though it generally settled down by the time they were eleven or twelve._

_4. Accidental magic was rarely so subtle that is could be brushed off as chance or déjà vu._

_5. It was incredibly rare for a person to not remember their bouts of accidental magic. This was generally caused by:_

_A. Obliviation_

_B. Severe trauma to the head._

_C. A traumatic experience to severe that one could not deal with the events and, as a result, forgot until they were capable of doing so._

_D. The accidental magic occurred when one was too young to remember-which was almost unheard of._

_6. Lack of accidental magic was a sign of serious medical problems in a magical child, particularly one powerful enough to attend a Wizarding magical academy. This could be the result of:_

_A. A magical malady , i.e. spattergroit_

_B. A disconnection between a person and their magical core-which was out because Hermione could successfully use a wand._

_C. A curse_

_D. A magical accident_

Obviously she had more research to do. Especially since it seemed there was something seriously wrong with her. It was all Hermione could do not to run off to ask Madame Pomphrey to scan her for health problems.

However, Hermione could not bring herself to ask for help just yet. She was st the top of her class for a reason. Surely she could figure it out by herself.

* * *

Harry tilted his head to the side, reading the names of the books in a pile next to Hermione. Was she still working on her potions essay? He'd thought she'd finished the night before. Maybe she was editing it or adding more information.

Was she taking notes?

Magical Maladies by Louisa Brown, Magical Infections and Diseases by Edward Lane, Diagnostic Spells and Potions by P. Flamel and Identifying Curses by P. Flamel. On its own, Harry could even understand the diagnostic texts. But all the books together was a bit much. Particularly since she was taking notes. Even for Hermione, who's dedication to learning was legendary.

"Isn't that a bit much," Harry said.

Hermione gave him a blank look, so he clarified, "I mean, the medical potions."

"Oh. Maybe. But I want-I want to be thorough. You never know what Professor Snape might award extra points for."

"All those for one potions essay?" Ron said, aghast. "There have be half a dozen books there."

"Only four, Ron," said Hermione, looking slightly insulted.

"Oh," said Ron, who appeared to have realized he was on thin ice. "Hey, uh, could I look at that when you're done?"

Harry once again found himself between his two friends as they descended into one of their infamous arguments over the merits of education.

* * *

By the time Halloween came around, Hermione had managed to rule out most magical defects, viruses, and diseases which would cause a lack of magical accidents. And then Mrs. Norris was petrified and then Sir Nicholas and Colin. The next thing she knew, Harry was suspected of opening the Chamber of Secrets by most of the student body.

It was therefore unsurprising that Hermione chose to dedicate herself to solving Harry's mystery rather than her own. Especially since it seemed that people at Hogwarts were in immediate danger and she was not about to die from whatever had caused her lack of childhood magic.

Well, she was pretty sure she wasn't.


	3. Introspection Part 1

Author's Note: I know there will be people who object to Hermione being aware whilst petrified. Admittedly, it does seem unlikely. However, since cannon never said one way or the other whether or not those who were petrified by the basilisk were aware, I have decided that they were. It serves my purposes and helps to move the story along. Also, I've left a couple big clues in this chapter, though it's doubtful they'll make much sense just yet.

* * *

Chapter 2

Her nose itched.

Not that there was anything Hermione could do about it.

Her nose itched and her arm ached and her fingers were cramping and her robes were bunched uncomfortably under her back.

Exhausted from worrying about Harry and Ron and Ginny-particularly since they'd no idea a basilisk was in the school and Ginny was showing obvious signs of possession one of the professors should have noticed-Hermione had taken a slight mental rest, allowing more worldly concerns to envelop her. Unfortunately there was no way to solve these more worldly concerns.

Petrification was something she'd never thought to experience.

And she was sure it would drive her insane.

Overwhelmingly bored, she began to review what she'd learned in class and from reading ahead. Surely they'd free her by the time finals came around.

* * *

By the end of the week, Hermione had exhausted her ability to think about education-especially since the petrified did not sleep. So then she considered Harry and Ron and Neville, and compared them to her childhood friends.

Or tried to, at least.

Hermione knew she'd had friends before Hogwarts. But she couldn't remember their names. She couldn't remember their nicknames or where they'd played or even what they'd played, though the words jump rope and hop scotch and dolls came to mind. Unfortunately, Hermione was sure she'd not played those games with the friends she couldn't remember having. And she found herself incapable of remembering their faces or the sounds of their voices.

Frantic, Hermione had searched her memory for anybody other than her parents or their dental technicians or her neighbors. She didn't remember her aunts or uncles or cousins or grandparents. Oh, Hermione knew she'd visited them for holidays and such and was more than capable of naming them, but she couldn't remember them.

Likewise, Hermione could not remember her teachers. She remembered that she'd been the top of her class and had skipped several grades, but for the life of her, Hermione could not remember doing these things. And though she remembered the name of the public school she'd attended, part of her kept insisting that it was wrong.

* * *

It took Hermione several hours to calm down enough to consider what this meant. Something was wrong with her memory. Obviously she either suffered from one of six diseases, infections, and conditions which caused memory loss, or she had been obliviated. Poorly.

More worried than ever before, Hermione began to review everything she'd read on both, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

* * *

_Dank cold of stark morn._

No.

_Dank cold of winter morn._

Better.

_Drip-drop cold of winter morn._

No. Definitely not.

_Drip-drop cold of damp winter morn._

Better, but not right yet.

_Drip-drop chill of damp winter morn._

Much better.

When she was no longer capable of thinking about her memory problems for the day, Hermione found herself working on what was fast becoming a story written in the style of a poem. An epic poem reminiscent of the Iliad or Beowulf.

She paused in her thoughts. The heroine had just awakened from her cursed slumber. It was as good a place to stop as any.

Hermione refused to consider the psychological implications of her story. Particularly since it dealt with an apprentice sorceress suffering from memory problems. Likewise, she refused to acknowledge that since she lacked any other outlet for the multitude of issues on her mind, writing her poetic story was her only healthy way of dealing with them.

Instead, Hermione wondered how she knew so much about poetry. How she could quote Shakespeare and Chaucer. How she knew all the words to Edgar Alan Poe's Annabelle Lee or how she knew that she preferred Robert Frost to Emily Dickenson. Or how Hermione knew that Beowulf was both her favorite story and her favorite poem of all times.

For the life of her, Hermione couldn't find the answers to any of these questions. The Grangers thought poetry was a waste of time. Surely she would have remembered doing something so rebellious as reading poetry.

And this troubled Hermione, for she was not rebellious by nature. In fact, her friends often commented that she had an unhealthy respect and trust for those in positions of authority.

Part of Hermione balked at this, but she was a stubborn girl. If she was examining all the parts of her life, then this too must be examined.

But adults-especially those in power-were to be respected. Because they were older and wiser and she should trust them.

There was something wrong with that statement.

Hermione wasn't really sure what the problem was, but something about the statement felt wrong. Perhaps she should look at Harry and Ron's views and motives for their views on authority in relation to herself.

* * *

The soft footsteps were the first think to come to Hermione's attention. It wasn't time for Madame Pomfrey's pre-dawn rounds just yet. The foot steps, Hermione decided, were too light for an adult, or even most students.

She saw a flash of hair out of the corner of her eye. Long, colorless curls she remembered from somewhere she couldn't name. A shadowed face leaned over Hermione.

"Hullo, Erma," said Luna. "I'm sorry it took me so long to come visit you. They're not allowing students to visit those who have been petrified. They didn't say whether or not they allowed adults, but I doubt Professor Dumbledore has permitted news about the petrifications to reach Colin or Seamus's family. Or even Penny's. Surely they would have visited or demanded they be transferred to St. Mungo's. Anyway, I don't have long to visit, but I'll do what I can to make you more comfortable while I'm here."

Luna's face pulled back and was replaced by a delicate wooden comb. "I'll brush and braid your hair if you don't mind. The wrackspurts have probably gotten it so knotted, a dreadlock would be easier to untangle by now."

Hermione couldn't help but acknowledge to truth to her words. Her parents would have pulled her out of school if they'd been informed of her current condition.

She felt a soft pulling on her hip-length hair-nearly six inches longer when wet-as Luna began to brush it out. It seemed she was working from the bottom up, so as not to make the tangles worse.

Why was Lulu visiting her?

Lulu? No, her name was Luna.

Hermione listened to Luna talk as she gently levitated Hermione's head and upper body so that she could reach to back of her head. The entire situation was strange. She would need to think on this later.

"How do you like you second year? I do so enjoy learning magic, although the Wizarding can be exceedingly unpleasant at times. Surely they realize that they are not the only type of magic users in the world. Just the single largest international group. Sorcerers are nearly as numerous, though certainly much less organized. But the Wizarding try to dictate terms to the other magical groups as if they were vassals.

"Of course," said Luna, somewhat conspiratorially. "That doesn't stop the other magically inclined peoples. The Atlanteans openly snub the Wizarding. For good reason, if you ask me. The Wizarding governments seem to have forgotten who was historically greater in battles of supremacy. Not them, but the Atlanteans. They don't even teach us about the wars in school anymore. Admittedly, the last war between the Wizarding and the Atlanteans was before Atlantis sunk under the ocean, but still…

"Sometimes I really don't know why we bother with statutes of secrecy. More than two thirds of our penal code is dedicated to punishing those whose actions might reveal us to the Muggles. Yet the Minister of Magic is technically the King's-well, currently Queen's-wizard. Most governments know that the Wizarding exist and only preexisting treaties keep our way of life intact."

Luna paused, lifting several ribbons for Hermione to see. "Which color?"

Hermione had to admit that the rose pink ribbon was attractive, though she was much more interested in hearing what else the small first year had to say. Luna was the first she'd encountered to raise these questions. Ones that Hermione herself had silently refused to voice, for fear of loosing her place in the Wizarding world. For fear of being unable to continue her magical education.

It was, in Hermione's opinion, a stupid fear. But that did not keep nightmares of becoming a crazed old woman institutionalized for ranting about how there was a magical world hidden within the non-magical.

"I agree, the rose pink," said Luna, picking two long ribbons in the shade Hermione had so admired out of the pile.

She quickly began to pull Hermione's hair this way and that, weaving the two ribbons into the emerging braid. "Where was I? Oh yes…

"It seems that previous prejudices, while still, in some cases, existent, have calmed down with the emergence of the so-called Super-Hero. Several of them use magic, and there has been no public outcry. There has been no upswing in witch hunts or witch burning. Yet, the government refuses to acknowledge the existence of people like Dr. Fate or Zatanna or Wonder Woman, because it could weaken them politically.

"If it was known that the public did not need the protection from Muggle prejudice the Ministry supposedly supplies, the various magical governments might loose power. So they keep us ignorant of the true situation and propagate our belief in our own superiority. The belief on superiority extends to all facets of Wizarding life and encourages blood purists.

"It was only during the Second World War and our war with Grindelwald that blood purity became what it is today. Part of this was because in England, the government was reacting against all the exposure purebloods received to the Muggle world and how competent and dangerous Muggles really could be. They encouraged the isolationism our need for secrecy required. They encouraged children in Hogwarts and ministry employees to look down upon Muggles, and by extension, Muggle-Borns, because it served their purposes.

"Because, if the common wizard were to know what I, and no doubt you as well, know about capes, they would question the validity of many of our laws and institutions. They saw what had happened during the thirties with labor unions, and were frightened that it would spread to the Wizarding World as well. They were frightened that the long standing Pureblood domination of our society would be challenged.

"And so, they created the perfect society for Voldemort to come to power."

Luna stopped talking, a look of concentration upon her face. Hermione felt a weight be placed over her shoulder. From the weight, length and thickness, it seemed to be her newly braided hair.

Luna bit her lip, then bent down out of Hermione's line of sight. She straightened out a moment later and held up a hauntingly familiar doll. It was somewhat beaten up, with tattered hair made of strips of brown cloth and two button eyes, one about to fall off. The yellow and red dress of the soft cloth doll had seen better days and there were several patches made of mismatching fabric pieces.

"I have to go now. It's nearly four and Madame Pomfrey will be by soon. I promise I'll visit again the next chance I get, Erma. I'll leave Sandy to keep you company until I return."

With that, Luna lowered Hermione back to the bed. She nestled the doll between Hermione's left arm and body. Luna pulled the blanket back up, tucking in both Hermione and Sandy.

Luna glanced left, then right, before leaning down to hug Hermione and give her a kiss on the cheek.

"Bye, Erma," she whispered.

A moment later, Luna was gone.


	4. Intimations Part 1

Author's Note: I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the others. However, it was the sensible place to stop, although I'm sure some will object to that statement. That said, I do hope you enjoy. I have lots of plans for this story. Oh, and I am open to suggestions for pairings later on in the story, once the girls have a chance to grow up a bit. As for the time frame… let's say that Hermione and Luna are somewhat close in age to the original incarnation of the Teen Titans.

* * *

Chapter 3

Irma Pince had long been of the opinion that something was wrong, but few truly listened to a mere librarian. Particularly one employed in a school.

It was the hiding of the Philosopher's Stone in the school which had solidified this feeling of wrongness for Irma. Why in the name of all that was holy would a powerful magical object sure to attract those who wished to possess it in a school full of children? But this was only the second year she'd worked at Hogwarts and even the ever changing Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had more seniority than she.

She'd said nothing when it had become apparent that Dumbledore would try to cover up the reopening of the Chamber of Secrets, though she'd longed to object. She had, however, pointed out that surely the parents of the children who had been petrified must be informed of what had happened. Her words had been ignored because "their parents are Muggles. They wouldn't understand."

It was, in Irma's opinion, criminal that such information was being kept from the Clearwaters, the Finnegans, the Creevys and the Grangers. The school had no right to withhold such vital medical information. And then Dumbledore had been sacked.

She had approached the Board of Governors, hoping that one would at least see reason. Irma had once again been rebuffed with the words, "Madam Pomfrey does not believe it's serious enough to warrant alarming the Muggles."

She paused, listening carefully. It was her turn to help patrol the castle, searching for those who broke curfew or were up to mischief and for signs of the beast which hap been unleashed. It had been suggested that the staff pair up to patrol, in light of the danger. But that idea, like most Irma suggested, had been shot down.

"You are in serious trouble," announced Irma, having recognized the sound of footsteps as belonging to a child. "It's dangerous."

"I'm sorry," said a soft female voice as a slight girl stepped out of the shadows.

The Lovegood girl-she spent most of her time in the library. The girl was as dedicated to learning as Hermione Granger. Irma paused at that thought. She was very fond of the bossy little Gryffindor who now resided in a hospital bed.

"Com along, Miss Lovegood," said Irma, motioning toward a hallway which would take them toward Ravenclaw Tower. "Why are you out of bed?"

"I was picking flowers and I lost track of time."

"It's nearly three in the morning."

Irma paused, considering the hallway they were in. They were only a hundred meters from the infirmary. Luna carried a beautiful bouquet of violets and daisies.

Irma turned around. "This way. I see no need to disrupt my patrol for your misadventures. I'll return you to Ravenclaw Tower after I check the infirmary."

"Yes, Madam Pince," said Luna, visibly happier.

As they walked, Irma thought about how those poor children had been forbidden visitors. If, as Madam Pomfrey said, the petrified were unaware, visitation would still be a comfort to their friends. Irma shuddered to think what those children could be going through if they were aware. Luna seemed to have gotten it into her mind to go around the rules and visit. She was probably just worried about a friend.

"Wait in this room," said Irma, "I'll find you when I finish my security check. And don't wander off."

Irma quickly checked the infirmary proper physically, visually, and magically before moving to the other rooms, leaving Luna behind. Whilst in the bathroom she fished a broken glass cup of the trash. A quick spell sterilized it and a wave of her hand turned, stretched, and molded the glass. Satisfied with her work, she filled the vase with not-quite-cold water.

She quietly walked back over to the main infirmary, looking around for Luna. The girl was standing next to Hermione, plaiting her hair into two braids with white and yellow ribbons woven in.

The girl's had had been braided with a pink ribbon minutes before. Irma wanted to say something, but stopped herself. It seemed that Luan was there to visit Hermione and she would not intrude on her visit more than necessary.

Luna spoke quietly the entire time. "… was caught. So I can't stay long. I'm not sure I'll be able to visit again."

She tied off the long, thick braids and looked up. Luna bit her lip, then looked back down. The girl moved a small doll from Hermione's left side to her right, and then tucked them both in carefully.

"Here," said Irma, holding out the vase. "You can put the flowers in this."

"Thank you," whispered Luna.

She untied a string around the flowers and began to place them into the vase. Luna arranged them quickly and tastefully before holding them up for Hermione to see-if she could, indeed see. Then she placed them on a window sill next to Hermione's bed.

"Five points from Ravenclaw for breaking curfew," announced Irma. "Ten points to Ravenclaw for finding such lovely flowers at this time of the year."

"Thank you, Madam Pince."

"If I catch you again, I will give you detention."

"Yes'm," said Luna, looking a bit despondent.

"The mandrake root potion will be ready in a couple days," said Irma. Trying to reassure the girl.

Luna nodded as they walked out the door. It was several minutes before she asked, "Where did you get the vase?"

"I transfigured it, Miss Lovegood."

"Oh. What spell did you use?" she asked, perking up slightly.

"One I doubt you've ever heard of," she replied.

"Why wouldn't I have heard of it?"

Irma smiled at the girl. "It wasn't Wizarding magic." She paused at the bottom of a stairway. "Here we are. Off to bed with you, Miss Lovegood."

* * *

There was, Hermione decided, entirely too much for her to think about. Too much for her to consider. Too much going on in her life. Luna's visit had only added to the questions which now took up her time. She felt almost as if her brain might melt and dribble out her ears if she thought about this much more.

She needed a break. A break from her concerns about her memories. A break from her curiosity about Luna and conspiracy theories with just enough truth in them to make Hermione consider them more closely.

Firmly putting such worries from her mind, Hermione instead worked on her poem. She added to, and edited the verses, choosing not to continue with the story until she was unpetrified.

She almost didn't notice when Harry and Ron came to visit her. There took the paper from her hand, much to Hermione's relief. At least not they had some idea what they were up against.

The next think she was aware of was a strage taste upon her mouth. It seemed that the mandrake root potion had been finished.

* * *

"Why would I know where Loony Lovegood is?" asked a first year Ravenclaw.

Hermione let out a mental sigh. It was the third time she'd received that answer this day alone. She'd looked high and low for Luna since the day she'd been unpetrified., hoping to catch her alone.

Though Hermione had encountered the girl several times at meals, she refused to approach her. A fear she couldn't quite name had stopped her each time she tried.

Hermione continued on her way through the library heading farther and farther back in her quest to find books on memory charms. She had run into the first year entirely by chance and had been unwilling to let the first year get away without questioning him on where Luna might be.

It had been far too easy to confirm that her memory problems stemmed from an external source rather than an internal one. It had been even easier still to narrow the problem down to a memory charm.

Somebody had obliviated her. Somebody had gone into her mind and taken away everything that had made her her. She couldn't even trust her own judgment. Not anymore.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath.

It seemed that every time she though of her memory problems, her panic, her feeling of violation, grew.

There had to be a way to undo this. To return her memories to their rightful place. And Hermione had every intention of finding it.

* * *

Hermione paused at the doorway to a compartment in the middle of the Hogwarts Express. She'd finally found Luna, it seemed. The girl sat alone in the compartment, reading a tabloid called the Quibbler, which was faintly familiar to Hermione.

"You're a hard person to find," said Hermione as she walked into the compartment, closing the door behind her.

"No, I'm not," said Luna, looking up. "Not if you know how to look."

Part of Hermione protested that, but she refused to give voice to those thoughts. Instead, she said, "Thank you."

"You would do the same for me," replied Luna.

"Nevertheless, I'm very grateful," said Hermione. She pulled the doll and two sets of white and yellow hair ribbons from her book bag. "Sandy did make me a bit less lonely."

"Then she did her job." Luna took the doll and ribbons from Hermione's grasp, hugging them to her chest. "Are you well now, Erma?"

"No, Lulu. No, I'm not," said Hermione, lost in thought. "I'm not sure I'll ever be well again."

She didn't notice the use of the nickname which continually came to mind when talking to Luna until she was done speaking. She opened her mouth as a thousand questions came to mind. But something stopped her. The same unnamed fear which was becoming far too familiar.

Instead, she said, "Lulu, you remember me, don't you."

"We go to school together," Luna said with a sad little smile.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," snapped Hermione.

Luna looked down. "I could never forget you, Erma. No matter what. Just like you can't completely forget me." A haunted expression far too old for Luna's twelve year old face was quickly replaced by the dreamy, not-quite-there look Luna usually wore. The girl stood. "You should go now."

"Lulu-"

"I'll see you in September, Erma." Luna paused in her attempt to push Hermione out of the compartment. "Be careful." They hugged, squeezing each other tightly. "And don't let them know you suspect."


	5. Introspection Part 2

Author's Notes: I'm female, I can speak from experience. You'll know what I mean after you finish reading the first scene. So I won't take any flames from people protesting what I wrote.

Oh, and feel free to suggest pairings for later on.

* * *

Chapter 4

Dinner that evening was unusually tense. Hermione spent the meal examining Mark and Gwendolyn Granger from the corners of her eyes, taking care not to look at either unless spoken to. She spoke less at the meal than she had in years. But so terrified that they knew of her suspicions, Hermione didn't notice the discrepancy which caused Mark and Gwendolyn's quickly growing concern.

One thought kept going through Hermione's mind. One thought which added exponentially to her distress.

She didn't look like Mark and Gwendolyn Granger.

Gwendolyn was a somewhat mousy brunette with thin hair and curls which came from a salon. Mark was a sandy blonde with pin straight hair. Hermione was a brunette with deep chestnut hair so naturally and wildly curly that it was often joked that it ate the missing remote control or the socks which disappeared into the dryer.

Hermione's eyes were a shade that sometimes seemed to be amber, and other times seemed to be brown, depending upon the lighting. Gwendolyn had green eyes and Mark had gray eyes. It was incredibly unlikely that they would have a brown eyed daughter.

She had a cleft chin. That was a dominant genetic trait. But neither Mark nor Gwendolyn had cleft chins, which meant that they could not, both, be her parents. Unlike them, she had a widow's peak, another dominant genetic trait.

There were more differences as well. The shapes of noses, the arch of the eyebrow and subtle shape of the eye. Nothing that on its own, would give Hermione pause.

Was it possible that Gwendolyn had had an affair? Hermione supposed that would explain the differences.

She was struck by an idea. Hermione had learned her blood type two summers before. Her arm had barely been out of its cast when she'd boarded the train for her first year at Hogwarts. She'd asked the doctor what her blood type was when she'd gone to get the cast removed. According to him, it was AB negative.

"Mum, Dad, what are your blood types?" asked Hermione.

"Why do you want to know?" asked Mark.

Hermione let out a mental curse. She'd forgotten that she was in no way, shape or form, subtle.

"Just curious," said Hermione. "Madam Pomfrey-the school nurse-told us about blood types."

Mark shrugged. "I'm O negative."

"O positive," said Gwendolyn as she put dessert on the table.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She felt incredibly cold and warm at the same time. Normal hearing was drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through her veins. She felt nauseas and dizzy and her head hurt so much. Hermione's vision went white.

"… alright? Can you here me?" said Gwendolyn, leaning over Hermione.

In that moment Hermione realized she was lying on the ground, having slid out of her chair. She'd fainted. This fact startled Hermione. She'd never fainted before, not even when terrified and sure she would die.

Part of her tried to blame this on her month of petrification. Surely that was the cause. Yet, Hermione could not do so. According to Madam Pomfrey, the petrification had caused no ill effects.

"S-sorry," said Hermione.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" asked Mark, as he walked out of the kitched carrying the first aid kit.

"I-I forgot to eat breakfast and lunch. I was just so excited about being home," said Hermione, babbling the truth unthinkingly as she tried to figure out what to say. "And then you said you were O positive and you were O negative and I have the wrong blood type."

To Hermione's horror, she began to sniffle as her eyes filled with tears. Gwendolyn carefully moved her into a sitting position upon her lap and wrapped her arms around the thirteen year old.

"Shh," said Gwendolyn as she motioned Mark away. "What do you mean the wrong blood type?"

"I-I," mumbled Hermione. "It's not," she said into Gwendolyn's chest, "O positive or-"

"Of course it's not O positive," she said comfortingly. "It's O negative like your father."

"B-bu-but," Hermione looked up in time to see Mark hand her a box of tissues.

She gratefully took them and blew her nose before trying to wipe her face. But her eyes and nose kept flowing as she wordlessly cried out her horror and confusion.

"Is it that time of the month?" asked Gwendolyn, somewhat helplessly.

Hermione nodded, quickly taking the out. "It ends today."

"Mmm. Why don't we get you up to bed."

Hermione allowed herself to be taken up to her room as if she was an exhausted and upset child. It was a reasonable excuse. Girls and women had many different symptoms to go along with menstruation. Hermione herself got bad cramps and headaches, along with occasional crying jags, though it had been a long time since she'd burst into tear as she had at dinner.

She lay in bed a long time that night, thinking over what she'd learned. If she were to trust the doctor who had told her her blood type, then she could not be Mark and Gwendolyn Granger's biological daughter. This did not exclude the possibility she had been adopted, but their words had.

They were dentists, which meant that they had to have received medical training. Neither would tell her that her blood type was O negative if they knew it was something else. It was dangerous and could have bad consequences if she were in need of a blood transfusion. Which meant that they honestly thought her blood type was O negative.

Why did they think her blood type was O negative?

Why did she look nothing like her supposed parents?

The second question suggested that she might have been adopted, since obviously neither could have been her parent. Not with the blood types they claimed to have. She didn't think they would lie about her blood type to protect that secret. Not if it could cause her harm.

Obviously she would need to search their papers to find out whether or not she was adopted. If she were, then it would be unlikely that they had anything to do with her memory problems.

Hermione paused at that thought. They might not have bothered to replace the papers burned up in the fire. It had raced through their previous house the June before Hermione had begun Hogwarts. She'd been in the hospital at the time, getting her arm set, but her parents had been at home. They'd nearly died.

Hermione let out a mental sigh. First she would search the house and then the dental practice. If she could not find what she needed there, she'd figure out how to get government records.

* * *

Even as she searched, Hermione listened carefully. Her parents could return at any time. Though they were at the office at the moment, Mark and Gwendolyn returned to their home for lunch as often as not. Though they came home for lunch more often when Hermione was back from Hogwarts. At least they had the summer before.

She sighed and closed another drawer. Nothing.

Hermione moved a chair out of the way as she opened the top left drawer of her father's desk. A ha. There were files labeled Mark, Gwendolyn, Hermione, along with one labeled John. Her grandfather, John Granger had lived with them after the death of his wife. But he'd died in the fire which had destroyed their previous house.

She pulled the file folder labeled Hermione out of the drawer, after carefully noting its placement. Inside the file folder were several more files. One was labeled Dental. Hermione opened that first.

It was nothing important, she thought. Just her dental records starting from when she'd first visited a dentist. She paged through it quickly, almost missing a piece of paper.

It was the receipt from when a tooth had been removed shortly after turning eleven. What? She carefully searched for the x-ray from after the tooth had been removed. Hermione held it against a lamp shade as she began to count her teeth with her tongue.

This wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. She still had her first premolar on the left bottom side. But according to this, the tooth had been so rotten, not even a root canal had been an option.

What? She didn't get cavities. Her teeth were very healthy.

She looked at the x-ray again, noting the fillings. The fillings she didn't have. Hermione knew she only had one filling, from when she'd chipped her second premolar, during the troll incident of her first year.

She went through the dental records a second time. This time she read everything. By the time she'd finished, Hermione had come to one conclusion. The dental records of Hermione Granger from before June two years before did not belong to her. They belonged to another person.

Now aware of what to look for, Hermione put back the folder of dental records and pulled out the one labeled medical. She went slowly, noting everything that would leave a scar or some other mark upon her body which she might be able to find.

There was the record of her birth and the hospital bill. She noted a mole which had been removed. But as hard as Hermione looked, she could not find the remnants of the mole upon her body. Other than that, it seemed to be relatively normal. She found the records of when she broke her arm. Oddly, there was a record of Hermione Granger having O negative blood.

However, upon seeing this she had to go through several pieces of paper more than once. A broken arm hadn't been her only injury. They'd charged for several other procedures which Hermione had had to look up in medical texts spread around the house.

Why didn't she remember her toe being broken or her ruptured appendix? Why didn't she remember the carefully documented bruises shaped suspiciously like hands? Why didn't she remember her broken ribs? Despite the earlier test which said she had O negative blood, Hermione had received several blood transfusions of AB negative.

She'd broken her arm playing soccer in school gym class. At least that was the reason she remembered. But for the life of her Hermione, could not remember playing football. Taking a deep, calming breath, Hermione decided that like her dental records, anything from before two years ago did not belong to her. They belonged to somebody else.

Steeling herself, Hermione closed the folder wither her medical records and took out the one which said Records. She wasn't sure she truly wanted to know what was in it, but Hermione could not leave this unopened. Not after what she'd read.

The first thing Hermione found was her birth certificate. Hermione Jean Granger, daughter of Gwendolyn and Mark Granger, born September 19. Nothing unusual.

She brightened as she found her school records. More than slightly confused, Hermione went through the records, noting how she'd been a C, and occasionally B student. That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. She'd been a straight A student. She'd skipped three grades. The only reason she hadn't graduated from high school early was that her mother had wanted her to have a relatively normal childhood.

Hermione paused. How had she known that?

Obviously, those thoughts were wrong, because she'd been a C student. Unless these records belonged to somebody else, just as the medical and dental records belonged to somebody else.

* * *

As Hermione made lunch, she considered what these fake records meant. Were they real records which had belonged to somebody else? And if they were, why had they replaced her own medical records?

Unless she had no medical records to replace and they'd needed to put something there. Hermione paused as she was bending to put a foil covered potato in the oven. That was a distinct possibility.

She bit her lip as put the potato in the oven and went to put together a sandwich. Brisket from the night before, lettuce, tomato, and cheese were put together carefully. Hermione put the sandwich aside. When the potato was nearly done, she'd put the sandwich into the oven as well, to heat it up.

Hermione sat down to wait, considering the timeframe. Her memories only started being real around June the summer before Hogwarts. The same with her medical and dental records. It was the same time as the fire.

She felt the blood drain from her face. That wasn't possible. That couldn't have happened.

Hermione forced herself to admit the possibility, no matter how distasteful. The only question was how to prove or disprove her suspicion.


	6. Veracity Part 1

Author's Note: I know some of you will question Hermione's research methods, but she'd a thirteen year old trying to avoid being noticed. Oh, I think I'll be posting on Thursdays and maybe Fridays as well, from now on. And I'm still open to suggestions on pairings for later on in the story.

* * *

Chapter 5

"Mum, Dad, would you drop me off at the library on the way to work?"

"Of course," said Gwendolyn. "Which one?"

"Just the local," replied Hermione.

Without looking up from his newspaper, Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. He pulled one free and handed it to Hermione.

"Here. We've only got half an hour for lunch today, so you'll have to buy your own. This should be enough for that," he paused. "And for the bus, if you want to head home before we'll be by to pick you up at 5:30. Just remember…"

"If I go home early, I should call you at the office," said Hermione, having heard the speech a thousand times before. "Thanks Dad."

Many a summer day had been spent in the library. Sometimes eating lunch with her parents, sometimes not. All three were used to the routine, and the Grangers didn't find it at all odd that their daughter would wish to go to the library.

* * *

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief when the librarian left. She had had to tell the woman that she was writing a current events paper for a summer class. Her pride hut at the implication that she had failed a class, but it had been the only reasonable excuse she could think of.

She walked down the aisles of the reference room, scanning titles. Hermione wasn't really sure what she was looking for.

Spotting a familiar title of a local newspaper, Hermione walked over to the bookcase. Each book on the shelf was thicker than her wrist and nearly two feet tall. A year and a six month period was printed on the book bindings. The Stonelake Gazette came out twice weekly, on Sunday and on Wednesday.

She reached out with two hands and pulled out the one labeled 1991, January-June, only to nearly drop it. It was heavier than she'd thought.

Hermione carried it to a secluded table and pulled out writing materials she hoped her parents wouldn't miss. Since they thought she was looking for some summer reading, she'd been unable to take anything too noticeable with her.

Back to the wall and an eye on the halls leading to her table, Hermione opened the book. Inside the book were all the issues of the Stonelake Gazette published during the time written upon the book spine.

John Granger had died in the early evening, Saturday the 22nd of June. It was easy enough to find the paper put out Sunday the 23rd. She paged through the paper, scanning articles until she found the headline: _Fire Rages Through Stonelake Suburb: Two Dead_.

Hermione read through the article, taking in all the details and jotting down the notes. Names were not mentioned because they'd not yet "been released by the police." She marked the page with a piece of paper and continued on, eventually coming to the Obituaries page of the Wednesday the 26Th issue. Her eyes narrowed as she read John Granger's obituary.

"… Dr. John Granger, m.d., is survived by his son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter…"

Mark Granger had been John Granger's only child. She was his only grandchild.

According to this, John Granger had been the only person in the house when it burned down. The only death. But the previous article had said that two had died.

She marked the obituary page and picked up her purse full of change. After making copies at a nearby machine, Hermione returned the book to its proper place.

On her way back to her seat, Hermione picked up the Stonelake Weekly, 1991. As the title implied, the paper came out once a week, on Sunday.

_Two Die in House Fire_ greeted Hermione when she turned to the first page of the Sunday, June 23rd issue. Once again there were no names. There was little difference in the facts of the article and the obituary in the Sunday, June 30th issue was identical to the one in the Stonelake Gazette, except for the mention of the funeral which had taken place on Tuesday the 25th.

Nevertheless, Hermione made copies of each as she considered what to do next. Finally, she began to search for the Stonelake Daily. It was little more than a gossip rag filled with opinion columns and letters to the editor, but it might have something. After all, the police might have released the names of the dead by the time the Sunday afternoon issue was published. She picked up the book labeled Stonelake Daily, June 1991 and continued on her way to her seat.

She quickly found the Sunday, June 23rd issue. The fire was front page news. Though the article was poorly written, Hermione quickly found what she had feared…

"… killing Dr. John Granger, m.d., 79, and his granddaughter, Hermione Granger, 11…"

Feeling ill, Hermione continued on. She found the obituaries in the Monday issue. One for John Granger and one for Hermione Granger.

She stared unseeing at the black and white image of Hermione Granger.

She was pretty, with light eyes of an indistinguishable shade. Her hair was cut into a becoming bob an inch below her chin. She had thick, straight light brown-probably-hair.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. She was going to throw up.

Forcing herself to continue on, Hermione looked through the Tuesday issue. She found a quick little blurb which mentioned the time and location of the burial of John and Hermione Granger.

Hermione copied everything before putting away the book. The last thing she needed was for somebody to know what she was looking at.

She sat back down and didn't move for nearly an hour.

* * *

It was easy to find a bus schedule. Easier still to find an excuse to be gone for the day. As far as mark and Gwendolyn were concerned, Hermione was going to the library once again.

In actuality, Hermione was heading to a local cemetery. In all honesty, Hermione wasn't sure what she was looking for, why she was going, though she'd desperately deny both. Perhaps it was merely morbid curiosity.

Most of the Granger family was buried in a remote, hard to find corner of the cemetery. At the far end from the entrance, a five foot stone wall all but surrounded the family plot.

Hermione found the grave of John Granger and his wife, Elaine. There was not a grave labeled Hermione Granger, and no matter how hard Hermione looked, she could not find one.

Surely the grave would be marked.

And then she mentally smacked herself. Usually the stones were placed on the grave later on. After the ground had had time to settle. There would be nothing to mark the grave.

Hermione began to carefully scan the ground around John Granger's grave. Taking note of how the ground had begun to sink in, she searched for another grave which seemed similarly not-quite-sunken-in.

Eventually Hermione found a piece of sunken ground too perfectly rectangular to be anything but a grave.

There was nothing to mark the grave of a girl forgotten even by her own parents. Only the person who'd stolen her life remembered that Hermione Granger had lived, had died.

It wasn't right.

She bonelessly fell to the ground in a kneeling position, her skirt getting tangled uncomfortably about her legs. The barely noticeable rectangular depression stretched out before her.

Was she even at the right grave? Or did it belong to another person entirely?

She gripped the grass, trying to stop the tears she could feel coming. Part of her acknowledged that she wished she'd never started searching, never started questioning, part of her knowing that she would not be able to stop until she knew everything.

Hermione winced as something bit into her palm.

She jerked her hand from the ground and examined it. The cut went from just between her left ring and pinky fingers diagonally to the delicate area above her thumb.

Hermione pulled out her handkerchief from where it had been stashed, between her skirt and her belt. She carefully dabbed at the wound and then folded the handkerchief and tied it about her hand. Hopefully this would help to stem the bleeding and keep the wound from getting any dirtier than it already was. She absently noted that she would need to get another tetanus shot.

Hand bandaged, Hermione began to search for what had cut her. She gently felt along the ground until she met something hard, sharp, and long. Carefully, Hermione pulled the object from the ground.

It was just a shard of colored plastic. Hermione deflated, once again unsure what she'd thought she would find in the first place.

Hermione's eyes widened as she felt the irregularities along the plastic. Hermione turned it over.

. . . . 913

. . . . . . . . . . anger

. . . . . . . . 1

It was a plot marker! The sort used in place of a tombstone. The sort of thing which would have been placed at a fresh grave until the ground had stabilized enough for a tombstone to be placed.

Somewhat frantically, Hermione began to search for more pieces of the plaque. It took her a couple minutes, but she managed to find most of the plaque along with part of the plastic stand it had rested upon. She carefully fitted the pieces together. There were several missing, but enough were present to confirm-in Hermione's mind, at least-who was buried therem

#1 . . 913

Her . . one Granger

1979-1 . 91

This wasn't right.

This wasn't right at all.

Hermione Granger-the true Hermione Granger-should not be forgotten. There should be some sign. Some proof of her existence.

She wanted to do something.

Anything.

She wanted there to be…

She wanted to…

She wanted…

She…

She…

Hermione tumbled to her side, exhausted.

It took several long moments for Hermione to come to her senses. Longer still for Hermione to right herself.

Hermione couldn't help but gasp at the sight before her.

At the opposite side of the grave was a tall tombstone which seemed to have risen from the earth. Flowers and vines made up the border around the effigy:

Hermione Granger

September 19, 1979

June 22, 1991

A flower bed had sprung up on the grave, full of more flowers than Hermione could name. Ivy and pansies and poesies and daisies and roses and delicate flowering vine which began to climb the tombstone as Hermione watched.


	7. Arrangements Part 1

Author's Note: 1) Ok, some unpleasant things are going to be implied in this chapter. I won't get explicit; the word implied is used for a reason. That said; if you think I need to up the rating, tell me.

2) I know Harry and Ron don't show up much. Just assume, at this point in the story, that if they're not in the picture, they're doing what they did canonically.

3) Also, the Weasley twins will play a somewhat important role in the book. If you have any prank suggestions, feel free to give them. I'm not very good at thinking up pranks.

4) And, as always, despite who Luna and Hermione might date whilst attending Hogwarts, they will both end up with DC characters, and I am very open to suggestions as to who these characters should be.

* * *

Chapter 6

Minerva McGonagal was more than a little surprised at Hermione Granger's reaction to receiving the time turner. A small part of her admitted that she was worried as well-the girl had become so withdrawn. She'd expected excitement or questions or even fear of the possible repercussions of time travel.

There'd been questions and excitement and fear, but none of this had lessened how tired the girl looked. Or how she moved as if through a dream. Nor did it change the haunted, despondent look in the girl's eyes.

"Do you need more chocolate?" Minerva asked, belatedly remembering that the girl had fainted when exposed to dementors.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps her misadventures had finally caught up with her. It would, she supposed, explain Hermione's behavior. Harry Potter had fainted as well. Poor boy.

"I-I think so," Hermione said quietly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Minerva asked gently, handing her a piece of chocolate.

Hermione shook her head slowly. "It wasn't important."

Minerva's lips thinned as she stopped herself from giving a sharp retort or reprimand. Hermione was just a child and children often had trouble admitting to problems. Never once did the memory of Hermione's first year cross Minerva's mind. She did not think about how Hermione had begged for her help, claiming that the Philosopher's Stone was in danger. Nor did she realize that her refusal to help might have lost her Hermione's trust.

* * *

_Unseen fingers trailed slowly upward, from ankle to knee. _

_"You're not Hermione!" said a familiar male voice._

_"Where is she?" demanded an equally familiar female voice. "What did you do to her?"_

_"Where's my daughter?" said the male voice._

_The fingers trailed back down her leg, pausing at the ankle. She began to shake._

_"You killed my baby!" shouted the female voice._

_The hand grabbed her ankle. It gripped so hard, that she thought it would break her ankle._

_"Why did you kill me?" asked the voice of a young girl._

* * *

Hermione awoke with a gasp. She sat up, curling her legs underneath her body.

The nightmare was familiar. She'd been having it for the better part of the past two months. Ever since her visit to the real Hermione Granger's grave.

But the hand was new. She'd only felt the hand once before, at least according to her admittedly unreliable memories, and that had been in the presence of the dementor on the train.

She remembered when she'd lost consciousness. Harry had described the sound of a woman screaming. But Hermione had heard nothing other than her own whimpers and the heavy breathing of something, someone, unseen. The feeling of the hand and the terror it brought with it was the memory the dementor had brought to light.

The hand was the most terrifying thing she'd ever encountered. Or perhaps that was the influence of the dementor's presence. Either way, Hermione was not naïve. She was well aware of what that hand might mean. But she refused to acknowledge this possibility without proof.

Hermione stiffened as something stepped on her lap. She relaxed when she recognized Crookshanks. The large cathead butted Hermione before crawling into her lap and laying down. The cat began to purr as loudly as a chainsaw.

Hermione gave him a stiff smile as she began to scratch behind his ears. "Crooks, you're a very good cat," she whispered.

Reaching over to her bedside table, she pulled out a small notebook, a quill and an inkwell. In it was written what little of her poem she had finished. When not working on ways to fix her memory, Hermione had worked on the poem.

The heroine of the poem, now named Maia, had just discovered that she was the replacement of a dead girl. Hermione no longer fooled herself about the nature of the poem. It was autobiographical, though the story merely reflected what was occurring in Hermione's life, and was not actually a true autobiography.

But, Hermione admitted to herself, it was a healthy way of expressing her feelings about what was occurring in her life. It wasn't like she truly had anyone to talk to about it. And even if she did, she knew she would not be entirely truthful.

Perhaps she had read one too many psychology books the summer before, when trying to figure out why Harry was the way he was.

* * *

Hermione sat down, carefully brushing out her skirts as she did so. The Hogwart's girl's uniform was, like most Wizarding clothing, based on the fashions of the middle ages. Rarely was Wizarding clothing influenced by any fashion from the Renaissance or beyond.

Across from her sat Luna, buried in a text that probably weighed as much as she did. The first day of classes had just ended, and Hermione had to admit, she was surprised to have found Luna so easily.

"Hullo, Erma," said Luna. "Did you have a good summer?"

"Not particularly. You, Lulu?"

"Yes. I helped Daddy edit articles for the magazine."

"Which magazine?"

"The Quibbler. Daddy is the owner and editor."

"Oh," said Hermione. She bit her lip and then decided to take the plunge. "Were you always Luna Lovegood?"

"No. The Lovegoods are my foster family."

"Oh." Hermione paused, and then said, "How do we know each other?"

"We've always known each other, Erma."

Hermione let out a sigh. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She momentarily wrestled with herself. Then she pulled out a piece of parchment with a spell and carefully written instructions on it.

"Could you do a spell for me?" asked Hermione.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "What spell?"

Hermione handed the parchment to Luna. "This spell. I can't perform it on myself."

Luna's eyes narrowed as she looked it over. Finally, she said, "This won't bring everything back."

"What do you know?"

"You know what I know," pointed out Luna. "You just don't remember it yet."

"You're speaking in riddles."

"I'm speaking fact."

Hermione let out a sigh, knowing the conversation would reveal nothing concrete. "Will you do the spell."

"You already know the answer to that question."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night," Luna said after a moment. "This way you'll have the weekend to recover."

"Where?"

"I don't know. But it must be relatively private."

Hermione picked up her bag. "Come on, I have an idea."

Luna quickly closed the book and packed up her book bag. Hermione quickly led Luna to the Great Hall, where dinner was about to begin. When Luna moved toward the Ravenclaw table, Hermione grabbed her arm and shook her head.

"We're not supposed to mix with other Houses during meals," said Luna.

"Too bad," announced Hermione. "I'm inviting you to the Gryffindor table."

"That's against the rules," Luna said, pointedly digging at Hermione's love of the rules.

"It's a stupid rule," said Hermione, shocking herself.

She'd never called something a stupid rule before. At least, she didn't think she'd ever done so before. This was wrong. This was bad. She should respect the rules.

No!

The rule made little sense. She should be able to eat with her friend if she wanted to, no matter what house they were in.

But the rule was there for a reason. The rule was good.

She leaned against the wall next to the doorway. Hermione gasped, trying to catch her breath. A cold sweat had broken out. She brushed the liquid off her forehead.

She wanted to eat dinner with her friend. House unity only caused more problems when it was taken too far. Having a meal with a fellow student should not be against the rules.

It didn't matter whether or not it should be a rule. It was a rule.

Hermione shook her head. She would eat with anyone she felt like, and that was that!

"Let's go," said Hermione, taking Luna's hand.

Feeling weak as a newborn kitten, yet oddly triumphant, Hermione resolutely led the second year to the Gryffindor table. They sat down near the middle of the table, Hermione pushing Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan out of the way.

"Hey!" said Lee.

Hermione turned to look at Lee, giving him a look reminiscent of Madam Pince's when a book had been damaged by a careless student. "We need to talk to the twins," she said, in a low, dangerous voice.

"O-okay," said Lee, edging out of the way. "Oh, look, there's Katie!"

He quickly grabbed his plate and goblet before moving farther down the table at a surprisingly quick pace. Oliver looked at Hermione, paled, and followed Lee's example.

"Hi Gred, hi Forge," said Luna.

"Hullo Luna," they said in unison, looks of confusion upon their faces.

"You know each other?" asked Hermione.

"We're neighbors," explained Luna.

"Oh, good," said Hermione.

"What's this commotion about?" demanded Percy as he walked over to the girls.

Hermione turned to look at the Head Boy.

"What-"

"-Commotion?" asked Fred and George.

Percy's eyes narrowed as first he gave his brothers a bone chilling look and then turned to the girls. His eyes immediately fell upon the blue and bronze tie Luna wore.

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, upon seeing the look in Hermione's eyes. Percy gulped, his Adam's Apple bobbing.

"Make sure to eat your vegetables," said Percy, his voice cracking.

The boy quickly turned and walked away.

"Impressive," said one of the twins-Fred, Hermione thought."

"Pull up a chair," said the other-George?

Luna and Hermione quickly sat down across from the two. They piled food upon their plates silently, Luna following Hermione's lead.

"I need a favor," Hermione finally said, once her plate was full.

"What sort of favor?" asked Fred, speculatively.

"We need someplace quiet to do a spell," Hermione explained. "And nobody knows the castle better than you two."

"What sort of spell?" asked George.

"The sort we don't want the professors or our fellow students to find out about."

Fred turned his gaze to Luna. "Why with Lovegood?"

"It's a private project," said Hermione.

"What do we get in return?" asked George.

"We'll help you with a prank," volunteered Luna.

"Help how?" asked George.

Hermione bit her lip, then said, "Nobody would ever suspect me of helping you prank people. And I know a lot of spells you've probably never heard of."

"And I love creating potions and animating inanimate objects," added Luna.

The twins shared a glance, and then looked back at the girls.

"Supposing we agree to-"

"-This, what's to say-"

"-You won't rat us out?"

Hermione merely looked at them. "Because if we rat you two out, you'll rat us out."

The twins smirked.

"Doing something you're-"

"-Not supposed to, then?"

"I think we both know the answer to that. Do we have a deal?"

"Not one prank," said Fred. "Help us pull off a school wide prank, a prank on all the Slytherins, and a third prank to be named later."

"And create one invention and one potion," added George.

"Help us set up wards on the place you give us, to make it completely private," said Hermione. "And to keep professors, the staff, and students out."

"Including us?" asked Fred.

"Yes."

The twins shared yet another look, then George said, "We accept your terms."

Hermione looked at Luna, who nodded. She turned back to the twins. "And we accept yours."

"It's a deal, then," announced Fred. "What sort of place are you two looking for?"


	8. Arrangements Part 2

Author's Note: I know, I updated a bit early, but I wanted to get this up. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. The next chapter should answer some questions.

* * *

Chapter 7

She whimpered and then rolled onto her side. It was clear, from the stress on her face, that her dream was not a good one. Several minutes passed before she rolled once again. She shivered, curling into a ball. It did nothing to help. Her movement had trapped the blankets underneath her. Still asleep, she tugged at the blankets.

Hermione woke as she landed on the floor. With a muffled curse, she sat up. She'd never rolled off her bed before. What had happened?

She shook her head and looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. It was three twenty nine, her alarm clock would have gone off in a minute anyway. She reached up to turn it off before it awoke her roommates.

Hermione stood and went to get ready. She was to meet the Weasley twins in the common room in thirty minutes. After her morning ablutions, Hermione went to her wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear.

The boys had it lucky, in her opinion. Robes for boys were generally just something thrown over a shirt, vest, and trousers, almost as an afterthought. Girls wore much more complicated clothing. It was, she admitted, lovely, but who wanted to wear four or more layers, even in the middle of summer? They were not identical to their medieval Muggle counterpart, but the outer garments were certainly close in appearance.

After putting on proper Muggle undergarments-Hermione flatly refused to wear their Wizarding counterpart-she pulled on a pair of knee high stockings and a pair of pantalettes. The pantalettes were linen trousers of sorts, which ended a couple inches past the knee. Over this went a sleeveless shirt which ended a couple inches above her knees.

Then came a chemise. This long sleeved garment was based off of the medieval version of a slip. Because of her age, both the sleeves and the bottom of the garment had generous hems so that they might be let down if she grew. She quickly pulled at laces on either side, to make the chemise fit closer to her body. Hermione absentmindedly tucked the extra fabric so that it would hang properly.

She pulled a tight sleeved, full skirted gray dress on over this. After pulling the laces in the back and along either side into place, she grabbed another piece of fabric from her trunk. The long, dark grey rectangular fabric was the precursor to the corset called, by the Wizarding at least, a stomacher. Hermione carefully pulled it halfway closed about her waist before stretching to make sure there was enough fabric above the stomacher for freedom of movement. She then pulled it to a proper tightness. The stomacher went from just under her breasts to where her hips began to widen.

After a moment of thought, Hermione pulled out a uniform robe and hat and put them into her book bag along with her school books for the day. She was unsure if she would be able to return to her room before breakfast.

One her way out of the room, Hermione picked up a large soft pink and gray checked cotton handkerchief from where it lay atop her trunk. She folded it into a triangle and easily tied it off, the front ends going around the back of her head, over the third tip of the scarf and back around to the front of her head, where it was secured. She pushed her hip length braid under the scarf and tucked in the back of the scarf.

Among the Wizarding, proper girls and woman covered their hair in public, no matter their marital status. These days, unless trying to pass for a Muggle, a girl or woman always wore a hat or a scarf of some sort.

The boys entered the common room shortly after Hermione. With a nod of greeting, the three quickly left the room, narrowly avoiding the gaze of the Fat Lady.

"Where are we meeting Lovegood?" asked one of the twins quietly.

"By the tapestry of Queen Mab," Hermione whispered.

The twin nodded as his brother said, "We'll show you the kitchens first. The House Elves will give you food without asking any questions."

"Then we'll take you to the room we picked out," added the other.

"Good morning true believers," said Luna, stepping out of the shadows.

"Believers in what, Lulu?"

"That would be telling, now wouldn't it," she replied, twirling in place.

Hermione pointedly ignored the look shared by the twins. "Well, let's get going. We need to set up the wards before breakfast."

"Do you know-"

"-What wards-"

"-You're using?"

"I did some research last night and found a couple I think would work well together," explained Hermione. "But if you have any you'd like to add…"

Luna nodded and said, "I have one."

"We might be able-"

"-To add one or two."

"Good," said Hermione.

* * *

Hermione looked around the triangular room appraisingly. Located on a middle floor of the North Tower, the room was technically a class room, but had obviously not been used for years. There were five circular tables with a couple chairs per table. The chalk board had a crack in it and the book shelves hung unevenly, as if the slightest weight would make them fall to the ground. There were four windows which faced south, and would doubtless let in quite a bit of light during the day. It was still predawn, yet already the room was bright enough not to need any candles.

"Where does that door lead?" asked Hermione.

"An office, I think," said Fred.

With a shrug, Hermione went to check. She opened the door carefully. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the room. Like the classroom, it was triangular in shaper. Quickly calculating, Hermione came to the conclusion that the two rooms together formed a semi circle.

The office was much the same as the classroom, though instead of tables, it had a desk. Along the walls were a multitude of book cases. The windows faced east, which meant the room was practically glowing.

Hermione went back into the classroom. "We'll take it."

Luna nodded her agreement. "Let's put up the wards. It's only two hours until breakfast."

The boys stared with amazement as Hermione pulled out the file of wards she wanted to put up. Obviously, Hermione decided, they had no idea what proper research looked like. Even light research like this. The table groaned ominously as Hermione put the folder down on it.

The boys shared a look, then said, "How do you two feel-"

"-About warding the entire floor?"

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"The other side of the-"

"-Hall is identical."

"We don't need that much space."

"This is too much work for one time use. We could use these rooms as study rooms or work rooms," suggested Luna. "And having neighbors might be nice."

"We are in need-"

"-Of quiet work rooms."

Hermione almost blanched at the speculative looks upon the boys' faces. But after a moment she said, "In exchange for that prank to be named at a later date."

The boys glanced at each other and nodded. "Deal," they said in unison.

* * *

"One last ward to do," announced Hermione.

She received blank looks from the boys as slightly wobbly Luna explained, "Somebody might notice the floor without anything."

Hermione nodded. "We need to ward the landings and staircases themselves so that people don't notice going through a floor without rooms or windows of any sort."

"Oh.-"

"-Good thinking-"

"-Granger."

* * *

Irma Pince watched as the small group of three Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw wandered into the Great Hall. She hadn't quite expected Hermione Granger to accompany the Weasley twins anywhere. The boys were a menace. An adorably cute menace-like kittens that knocked things off of counters for the fun of it-but menaces nonetheless. With them was the Lovegood girl, who leaned heavily on Hermione.

In blatant disregard of the rules, the four sat at the Gryffindor table, the girls across from the boys. It was the very beginning of breakfast and the tables had not yet begun to fill.

She couldn't help but smile at the scene. The children were obviously having fun and joking around. She'd been right, Irma decided, in allowing Luna to visit Hermione in the hospital wing. The girls seemed to be good friends.

A moment later, Irma noticed Minerva stand. It seemed she was going to go enforce the rules.

"Now really, Minerva, let Miss Lovegood stay. She's not harming anybody," said Irma quietly, unintentionally gaining the attention of Filius Flitwick.

"The children are supposed to remain at their own House tables during meals," pointed out Minerva.

"What time do these children really have to socialize with others outside of their own House?" asked Irma. "They can't during classes. In the library perhaps, but few spend actual time there beyond researching and studying. Are they to go out on the grounds once the snows start? They cannot go to each other's common rooms. Neither can they spend much time in the hallways or unused classrooms."

"There are clubs," pointed out Minerva, her resolve breaking.

"You know Miss Granger has no time for clubs," said Filius. "Meals are her only free time this year."

Minerva sat back down. "I suppose I can look the other way in the name of House relations."

* * *

"What's Loony doing here?" demanded Ron as he sat down next to Hermione.

"Ronald," said Hermione, her voice low and dangerous, "What did you just call one of my friends?"

Ron swallowed noticeably, as if realizing he'd stepped into dangerous ground.

"Hullo," said Harry, as he sat down next to the twins.

"Good morning Harry. This is my friend, Luna Lovegood, Lulu, this is my friend Harry Potter."

"Hullo," said Luna.

"You're a Ravenclaw, right?" said Harry.

Luna nodded as she ate her laver bread. "Second year."

* * *

Harry blinked as he saw Luna sitting at the Gryffindor table once again. According to Hermione, she was a study partner from the library. He couldn't bring himself to fault Hermione for bringing a friend to meals. She had, he realized, so few as it was.

Lost in thought, Harry tried to remember how many friends other than himself and Ron that Hermione had. Luna, obviously. And Neville. No matter how his mind strained, Harry couldn't think of any others.

He and Ron were friendly, if not outright friends with the other Gryffindor boys of their year. Harry counted the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and Lee among his friends as well.

Harry let out a sigh. He would, he decided, support Hermione's friendship with Luna. The girl was a bit off, but she was very nice. And she seemed to be good for Hermione. His friend had been so much calmer and less uptight with Luna around.

* * *

Hermione walked into the room slowly. The tables had been pushed aside, along with the chairs. It seemed that Luna had been busy in her absence. She pulled off her hat and robe, placing them on a table. She quickly brought out her handkerchief and retied it about her head. The last thing she wanted was for her hair to accidentally catch on fire.

"What do we need to draw?" asked Luna, from where she sat in a windowsill.

"I have the diagram here along with the candles and the chalk," said Hermione. "Every source I checked said that it didn't matter who drew what or in what order the circles and symbols were drawn."

She stuck the diagram to the chalk board after closing the door behind her. "We draw this, I light the candles with my breath, and then I get into the central opening. Once that's done, you say the spell. I should be in the circle for anywhere from half an hour to six hours."

Luna nodded her understanding and said, "I know I told you this won't bring everything back. It won't. But it will bring some things back."

"Lulu…"

"You'll understand after you do the spell, Erma."

Hermione let out a sigh. "Let's get started."

The girls quickly drew three, interconnected circles. The central most opening triangular in shape. Around this they drew two progressively larger circles. They quickly and carefully drew the needed runes within and around the interconnected circles and placed plain white candles in their proper places.

"Have you ever lit candles with your breath before?" asked Luna, as Hermione stared uncertainly at the candle in her hands.

"No," admitted Hermione.

"This isn't a Wizarding ritual, you know. It's far, far older."

Hermione tilted her head to the side questioningly. "I thought it was just older Wizarding magic."

"No," said Luna, shaking her head. "This is the type of magic the Britons and the Celts used before the Wizarding came to our shores with the Roman, and later, Saxon invaders. There's still some of this magic left in our school books because at the time of the founding of Hogwarts, there were still many who practiced these magics. Now, the magics of the Briton's are all but forgotten and found only in the oldest editions of medieval books. At least that's what Mummy told me."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "It's still magic," she said resolutely. "And this was the only spell I found short of legilimency which could return memories taken by others."

"Do you need help lighting the candle?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can do this."

Closing her eyes, Hermione took a deep breath. She thought about fire, and how much she wanted the candle to burn, exactly as the book had told her do. Then she pursed her lips and blew gently, willing the wick to spark and catch fire.

Hearing a faint sound and feeling heat, Hermione opened her eyes. She smiled happily at the sight in front of her. The candle now burned. She placed it back into it's spot and then repeated the process until all thirteen candles were lit.

Keeping her skirts out of the way, Hermione stepped into the central opening, careful not to smudge the calk. She knelt and arranged her skirts so that they did not interfere with the chalk either.

"I'm ready," said Hermione.

Luna nodded her understanding. She gave Hermione a tight smile and then began to chant in a long forgotten language.


	9. Recall

Author's Note: Check out the poll I just put up. It has something on pairings for Luna. Depending on how it goes over the next couple of weeks I'll decide who to pair Luna with eventually. As it is, I think I already know who I'm pairing Hermione with. Eventually.

Secondly, there are some huge clues in this chapter which should help you to figure out exactly what is going on. But if you don't, that's understandable. I'm going a bit obscure for this story. But then, when am I not going for obscure characters?

Thirdly, the hospital is made up. For my convenience.

* * *

Chapter 8

_She stared unblinking at the sight before her. No matter how hard she looked, she could not make sense of it._

_The walls and ceiling were dripping with blood and flesh, as was she. The meaty, salty-sweet smell of flesh and the outhouse like scent permeated the air. Scattered about the room, almost as if thrown, were chunks of bone and meat._

_"We need to go," chanted a familiar feminine voice. "Need to go. Need to leave. We need to leave. Go. Go. Leave. We need to go."_

_There was a faintly hysterical note to the chanting girl's voice which caused her to grow concerned. It was in that moment that she noticed a second presence. Once she noticed this, she considered how she could ignore the crying._

_Her Mary Janes squelched as she turned to find the source of the crying. A girl around her age was backed into a corner, eyes rolling wildly as she cried herself hoarse._

_And then she wondered how she had come to the conclusion that she and the crying girl were around the same age. The girl looked to be about twelve or thirteen. Oh… She was twelve years old, as of the thirteenth of June. Her birthday had been the week before._

"_We have to go," whispered the chanter._

_She turned to look at that girl. The girl who was standing next to her. Like herself and the crying girl, the chanter was covered in blood and bits of flesh, but underneath this, she could see bruises beginning to form._

"_You're hurt," she announced._

"_We need to leave, Erma," whispered the chanter, frantically._

_Erma… Was that her name? No, her name was Hermione. Nobody but Mom and Dad and Lulu were allowed to call her Erma._

"_Why do we need to leave, Lulu?" asked Hermione._

_Lulu-no, Luna-gripped a dirty, brown haired doll tighter to her chest. "They're dead. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead," she half sang. "We need to go."_

"_Who are dead?"_

_It was not Luna, but the crier who answered. With a crazed laugh, she said through her tears, "They're dead and you killed them!"_

"_W-what?" whispered Hermione, knowing even as she spoke that she had done as the crier had said. She'd killed them… whoever they were._

"_We need to go!" shouted Luna as she grabbed Hermione's arm._

_As Hermione felt herself being pulled through what felt like a straw and tossed about in the wind, she heard the crier begin to scream. She and Luna spun and twirled and flew up and down and up again. Hermione felt a massive wave of nausea cross over her as they began to fall once more._

_Falling and falling and falling for ever and ever._

_A gust of wind caught them yet again. But this time Hermione felt her consciousness waning. And then Luna let go of her arm._

_

* * *

_

_Hermione wasn't sure how much time had passed when next she awoke. She felt… fuzzy. As if she was both dreaming and awake. And she hurt. She hurt so much. More than she had ever hurt before. At least… she thought it was more than she'd ever hurt before._

"_I think she's waking up," said an unfamiliar male voice._

"_Can you hear me?" asked a second man._

_The earth vibrated. No. She was in a vehicle of some sort. One with loud, wailing noises. Oh, she was in an ambulance._

"_We'll be at the hospital soon," said the first man._

_And then the fuzzy darkness gained control._

_

* * *

_

_It was bright. Too bright._

_Hermione clenched her eyes closed tighter and attempted to roll away from the light. But she couldn't. Something had stopped her. _

_She fought half heartedly against the heavy thing which held her in place. Oh… it was a blanket. Hermione pushed the edge of the blanket away and attempted to turn again._

_She cried out in pain. _

_Settling on her back once more, Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She breathed a sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away._

_Hermione looked about in confusion. She was in some sort of cubical with pale green and pink checked curtains along two sides. Across from her was a hallway. Along either side were machine she could not identify. Strange lines moved up and down along the monitors and numbers changed as she watched._

_The only thing, in fact, that she recognized, was the I.V. attached to her arm._

_Was she in some strange sort of hospital? Obviously she'd been hurt. Was Uncle Charles taking care of her? That would explain the strange machines._

_Who was Uncle Charles?_

_Struggling to remember why she'd thought somebody who appeared to be named only Uncle Charles in her memory would take care of her if she were injured; Hermione almost didn't notice the woman step in to her cubical._

"_I'm glad to see you're awake," said a woman dressed in a colorful shirt with pretty bears holding hearts on it and plain white pants. "I'm a nurse, you can call me Edith."_

_Why would the woman be wearing such a thing? Out in public no less. It was ridiculous._

"_Where am I?" asked Hermione._

"_Saint Lucinda's Hospital in Aberdeen," said the woman._

"_Scotland?"_

_The woman nodded. "Can you tell me your name?"_

"_Hermione," she said. "Hermione Rosanne Belmont."_

"_How old are you?"_

"_Twelve. I turned twelve on the thirteenth."_

"_Where do you live?"_

"_In Manhattan,"_

"_Manhattan?"_

"_New York City," explained Hermione._

"_Ah. Do you know how to contact your parents?"_

_Hermione opened her mouth to answer, and then paused. What was the phone number? Her brown furrowed as she tried to remember. She blinked back tears as the answer refused to come to her._

"_Shh, it's alright, dear. Can you tell me your parents' names?" _

_Hermione stared blankly as she tried to remember. It had to be something Belmont, right? It was her surname and her parents had to have the same surname, didn't they?_

_She didn't even notice she was crying until Edith carefully brushed away her tears with a soft piece of paper. Why was she using a piece of paper and not a handkerchief?_

"_Do you want to continue?" asked Edith, after Hermione had stopped crying. "This can wait until you're stronger."_

_Hermione shook her head. "I'm alright."_

_Edith let out a sigh, "If you're sure. Do you know what year it is?"_

"_Nineteen fifty one. It's June. Unless I was unconscious longer than I thought. Then it's July."_

_Edith let out a shaky breath. "Why don't I see about getting you some food-you missed lunch-and then changing your bandages."_

"_What's wrong with me?" asked Hermione, her voice barely above a whisper._

"_I'll let the doctor tell you when she comes in. Don't worry, it's nothing life threatening."_

_

* * *

_

_Hermione yawned as she awoke. She looked up to see a pretty woman in a pants suit looking at her chart. The woman wore a white coat over the suit and had a stethoscope hanging around her neck. The woman smiled as she noticed Hermione was awake._

"_Hello," Hermione said unsurely._

"_Good, you're awake," said the woman. "I'm Eileen MacDougal, you're doctor. How do you feel?"_

_Hermione thought for a second, and then said, "Fuzzy. My arm and my stomach and my chest and my foot hurt, but it's a fuzzy sort of pain like it's really far away."_

_Dr. MacDougal nodded. "Does your head hurt?"_

_Hermione shook her head. "No. What happened?"_

"_We don't know yet. The police will be by to talk to you in a couple minutes."_

"_Oh. But it's already dark out."_

"_You weren't awake when they came by earlier today. The nurse said you have some questions…"_

"_What are my injuries?" asked Hermione._

"_You have three broken ribs. You're chest has been wrapped to aid healing. You broke your arm-your radius bone. We set that and now it's in a cast. The bone should be healed enough for the cast to come off by the time school starts in September. Your appendix ruptured and we had to remove it. Your left pinky toe was also broken and we fixed it."_

"_Oh."_

"_Now don't move around until your ribs start to heal. If they shift out of their proper position, they could cause internal injuries."_

_Hermione paled. "Oh."_

_After a couple more questions about Hermione's health, the doctor left. Two men in street clothes walked in. Detectives, obviously. Did this really warrant a detective? With a sigh, Hermione supposed it did._

"_Hullo," said the taller of the two men, "I'm Detective Williamson and this is my partner, Detective Tate."_

"_Hello," Hermione said shyly. "Can I see your badges?"_

"_Of course," Detective Tate said, taking out his badge._

_Hermione looked both over carefully, unsure why she'd thought to ask. She handed them back, unsettled by the realization that she'd been able to identify them as legitimate badges._

"_Do you mind if we ask you a couple questions?" asked Williamson._

"_It's alright," she said._

"_Can you tell us your name?"_

"_Hermione Roseanne Belmont."_

"_Do you know your birthday?"_

"_June thirteenth, nineteen thirty nine," said Hermione. "It's nineteen fifty one, now. I'm twelve."_

_Williamson shifted uncomfortably. "Do you know what day it is, today?"_

_Hermione shook her head. "I think it's still June, because my birthday was only a little over a week ago. Unless I was unconscious for longer than I thought."_

_She thought about asking after Luna, but quickly changed her mind. Some rarely used instinct told her it was a bad idea._

"_What's your parents names?"_

_Hermione looked down uncomfortably. "I don't remember. But we live in Manhattan."_

"_That's alright," said Tate. "Do you know who hurt you?"_

_Hermione looked up as she thought. But try as she might, she couldn't find any image from beyond when she'd last seen Luna, in that blood stained room._

_Her breathing picked up noticeably as the edges of her vision went fuzzy, and then white. Something was beeping, but Hermione couldn't care less. She was going to throw up or faint or both._

_A moment later Edith was in sight. "Shh, it's alright. Try to breathe through your nose."_

_It took a moment for Hermione to understand what Edith was saying. It felt as if it were a monumental effort, but Hermione managed to close her mouth, forcing herself to breathe through her nose._

"_Good, that's it. Can you breathe in? Good, now breathe out. Slowly. That's it. Breathe in… breathe out." Edith talked slowly, comfortingly, as she calmed Hermione down. "Breathe in, hold it, breathe out and hold it."_

_When Hermione had finally calmed down, Edith stood. She turned to Detective Williamson and Detective Tate. "I think you two should leave now."_

"_We need to talk to her," protested Williamson._

"_You can talk to her tomorrow. Can't you see she just had a panic attack?"_

_Tate nodded his understanding. "You're right. We'll come by tomorrow when Miss Belmont is feeling better."_

_

* * *

_

_Hermione blinked when Detective Williamson and Detective Tate walked into her room. She hadn't even had breakfast yet. What were they doing here so early? She gave a mental shrug. Who knew?_

"_Good morning, Miss Belmont," said Williamson._

"_Good morning," said Hermione, hesitantly._

_Tate closed the curtain so that the hall was no longer visible. Then he took out a stick and began to wave it around._

"_What are you doing?" demanded Hermione._

"_Making sure the Muggles don't overhear," said Williamson, as if he expected the words to make sense._

"_What are Muggles?" asked Hermione._

"_Don't play dumb with us, Miss Belmont. You were messing around with powerful magics, and now that you have to deal with the consequences, you're playing dumb to try to get out of trouble," explained Williamson. "Well that won't work with us."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_Nice try, sweetie," said Williamson. "I'm Auror Williamson and this is Auror Tate, we're with the Ministry of Magic."_

"_The what? What's an Auror? There's a ministry of magic?"_

"_Bollocks," said Tate, "I think she really doesn't remember."_

"_Typical," snorted Williamson. _

_He pulled out a wand and began to wave it at Hermione. There were strange flashes of light in front of her. Light which glowed various different colors, though it tended toward purples._

"_She doesn't remember," sighed Williamson. "Standard procedure?"_

_Tate nodded. "I'll see if I can find an appropriate family."_

_Williamson nodded. "I'll make sure she doesn't do this ever again."_

"_What are you going to do?" asked Tate, slightly concerned._

"_Just a minor compulsion to follow the law and respect her betters."_

_Tate nodded. "Wish we could do that to all the brats who break the law."_

"_What law are you talking about?! Compulsion? What do you mean compulsion?"_

"_Don't worry honey, this won't hurt at all," said Williamson._

_He pointed a wand at her as the world once more faded to black._


	10. Veracity Part 2

Author's Note: The poll is still up! Feel free to vote for a pairing for Luna for later on in the story.

Secondly, there are some huge hints in this chapter as well.

Thirdly: What I think about Kari Limbo cannot be said in polite company. That said, you have to hand it to the woman, she managed to catch both Guy Gardner and Hal Jordon-both of whom were willing to marry her. That woman was a master of manipulation-she got Hal Jordan to walk down that aisle! HAL JORDAN! Damn that woman was good. I rest my case.

* * *

Chapter 9

The candles extinguished the moment Hermione opened her eyes. She wobbled slightly, then fell to her side, exhausted. Nothing had been, she decided, as she had expected.

She looked up at Luna, who sat at a table, embroidering a scarf. "You let go."

"I did," whispered Luna. "I'm sorry. So very sorry."

"It's alright," Hermione said gently, as she sat up. "You were only nine years old. You shouldn't have had to try to protect me."

"How could I not?" asked Luna, putting down her embroidery. "Does being younger mean that I should only be protected and not protect as well?"

"You know what I mean."

Luna quickly helped Hermione over to a chair. "You had exhausted your magic. I did what I could…" Luna paused, sniffling, "But I had an accident."

"And now we're stuck forty years in the future."

Luna nodded miserably.

Hermione let out a sigh. She slid out of the chair and gave Luna a hug, brushing away her tears. "It's not your fault."

"But-"

"It is not your fault," Hermione said in a way which made it clear she would entertain no other options. "You were a child."

Luna took the handkerchief Hermione handed her and blew her nose. "Sometimes it's hard to believe that."

"Well it's the truth. You are not at fault in any way, shape, or form for what happened."

The two sat down on the floor, chairs forgotten. It was several minutes before Hermione broached a subject which had been bothering her.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have believed me?"

Hermione thought back to how she had been a year before at this time of the year. She shook her head slowly. "No, you're right. Thank you for being there for me."

"What are sisters for?" asked Luna, with a watery smile.

Hermione returned her smile. "We should clean up the wax and the chalk before we go to bed."

Luna nodded her understanding. "Untended magic can do unexpected things."

"I'll go grab a bucket of water and a mop if you take care of the candles and wax."

* * *

Hermione emptied the chalky water out in a sink in the girl's bathroom of the North Tower. After rinsing the mop, she took both back to the supply closet she'd taken them from.

Hearing footsteps, Hermione quickly stepped into the closet, closing it almost completely. Her eyes widened as she saw Madam Pince through the crack.

What was she doing here? According to the Weasley twins, Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector were patrolling this night.

The woman paused, glancing around as if searching for something.

Hermione felt her stomach drop to her ankles. Had somebody noticed the spell? She had to warn Luna.

Careful to stay in the shadows, Hermione followed Madam Pince, unsure how to get away to warn her sister. The woman was climbing up the only staircase to the level she and Luna had commandeered.

Madam Pince paused at the fifth floor landing and looked around. Hermione felt faint. Surely Madam Pince would notice the warded fifth floor rooms.

But she didn't.

After a moment, Madam Pince continued climbing. Hermione waited, nerves fraying, until Madam Pince came back down the staircase.

At the fifth floor landing, she paused and shook her head. Then she continued on.

Hermione waited several minutes, listening carefully for the sound of footsteps. Satisfied that nobody was coming, she ran back to the classroom.

Luna looked up when Hermione walked in. "Are you alright?"

"Madam Pince was looking for us," announced Hermione.

"Us?"

"Well, something. And she stopped at this floor, looking for something."

Luna tilted her head to the side. "Perhaps she felt the magic."

Hermione nodded. "I think she did."

"That would make sense."

"Sense how?"

"Madam Pince is not just a witch. I think."

"What do you mean?"

"The second time I visited you-when I was caught-Madam Pince was the one to catch me. She made the vase I put your flowers in with a transfiguration spell. When I asked her what spell it was, she said that it wasn't a Wizarding spell and then sent me to bed."

"Oh," said Hermione. After a long minute, she continued. "That would make sense, I suppose. There have to be more types of magic than Wizarding. Uncle Kent was a sorcerer and Zatara doesn't use a want-unless it's part of his act."

Hermione paused, wondering who Uncle Kent was. With a sigh, she dismissed the thought for later consideration. John Zatara, on the other hand, was a famous magician and superhero.

"I don't think there are many Witches and Wizards who practice more than one type of magic," Luna said unsurely.

"I think we should think about this more later. After we've had a chance to rest."

Luna nodded her understanding, and pulled out two pillows and a couple blankets from where they were hidden in the next room. "Are we staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Once they'd set up their beds, Hermione said something which had been bothering her for nearly an hour. "How much do you remember?"

Luna looked down. "One of the men hit me and then you killed them and then I took us here. I know some things, like that you're my sister and my name is really Luna Tamar Belmont. I can't remember Mom and Dad. Not really. And sometimes when I'm not paying attention, I'll say something about people or places I knew before, but I can't remember how I know this or who these people are."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "I-I don't remember killing them, but I remember asking what happened and then us traveling to now. I remember things like you do as well. I think. Do you know why we don't remember before?"

Luna shook her head.

"How did you-how did you end up with the Lovegoods?"

"I landed on their property. Mummy-Mrs. Lovegood knew what had happened. She was a researcher with the Department of Mysteries. When she found out it was just accidental magic, she and her husband took me in. They said I was their daughter and made everybody believe I was their daughter to protect me. And then Mummy died a couple weeks later-right after I turned ten. Sometimes I think Daddy thinks I really am his biological daughter." Luna shook her head. "He hasn't been the same since Mummy died."

"They're not really your parents."

"I know. But they took me in and cared for me and raised me as their own. And that's what parents do. And even if they had not, I would call them Mummy and Daddy because to slip could mean that Aurors would do to me what they did to you. If not worse. Unauthorized time travel is highly illegal and strictly punished. You were lucky you were so young. You could have been sent to Azkaban."

Hermione looked at Luna. "They erased my memories and put a compulsion on me!"

"A compulsion?" Luna said, horrified.

"I think it's to follow the rules," Hermione said quietly. "And to obey adults or those in authority. I don't remember them doing the actual spell though."

Luna nodded, eyes hard. "We'll start looking for ways to undo compulsions tomorrow."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "After breakfast. The boys will worry if people don't see me."

* * *

Killed? How could she have killed anybody?

Hermione shook her head. This was something she would have to spend a lot of time thinking on. Time she didn't have.

But even as she thought about, the sense that it had been justified came to Hermione. Her lips thinned. How could she think this killing was justified? Yes, the man had struck Luna, but that was not an offense worthy of mass murder.

Unless more had happened than Luna remembered. Which was, Hermione reflected, entirely possible. She'd had the injuries she came into the hospital with well before her travel through time. Which implied that the men had done more than rough her up. But Luna had only been bruised. Perhaps she had been trying to protect her baby sister and her magic had reacted, badly.

She would be unable to figure this out unless she had more information.

With a mental sigh, Hermione rolled onto her side to look at Luna. She absentmindedly studied her sister's appearance. For a moment Hermione wondered how she could have missed the resemblance between her and her sister.

They had the same, delicate turned up nose. Their mother's nose. Likewise, they had their mother's oval face and large lips. The bottom lip was slightly bigger than the top-though not by much. They had their mother's thick, wild curls and fast growing hair. And they had her sturdy not-quite-hourglass body type-more curves than anything else.

Hermione had their father's forehead and cheekbones, while Luna had their mother's. Luna had their father's colorless, almost blonde hair and dark grey eyes. Hermione had their mother's brown hair and eyes. Both girls had their father's cleft chin and widow's peak.

In that instant, Hermione wondered how she knew this. And once again, the source of the knowledge slipped away.

She smiled at the sight of the doll in Luna's arms. Their mother had made Sandy the Golden Girl for Hermione when she was an infant. Hermione had passed it on to her sister when she'd started first grade. It had been the year that the real Sandy had… the real Sandy had… he… he had gone away.

* * *

Irma Pince watched the students to enter the library purposefully that Saturday. Somebody had been playing with non-Wizarding magic the night before, and she wanted to know who.

Technically, she supposed she should turn the perpetrator over to the headmaster for him to deal with. Normally, the child would only receive a slap on the wrist, or if the spell they used had been particularly dangerous, they might face expulsion from Hogwarts. Wizarding laws could be quite Draconian at times. But in the current atmosphere, the child could be punished far worse than that.

She would not turn in a child for using magic other than Wizarding, ever. But other people might. And Irma was determined to ensure that didn't happen. Not while there were dementors at the gates and in Hogsmeade. There was just too large a possibility that something could go wrong.

But dealing with this on her own meant that she had to find the child without aid and without using magic which might tip others off. Unfortunately it was proving harder than originally suspected.

It was, she supposed, possible that one of the new first years had prior magical training-or perhaps once of the upper years. It was also possible that it was a child using magic found in one of her books.

Irma knew that the books of the library were not, in fact, hers, but she was the one to care for and organize them. She was the one to keep track of them. And far too many of the older books had bits and pieces of spells from various other branches of magic-particularly the magic used by the Britons.

Among the Wizarding, though it was not illegal to know another form of magic, it was heavily frowned upon. The Wizarding considered other forms of magic to be quaint and somewhat backwards, barbaric, for lack of a better word. This view certainly did nothing to raise the Wizarding in the eyes of the international magical community at large.

Irma's mother had not been a witch herself, though members of the Limbo family certainly possessed magic. Irma winced mentally at the thought of her younger cousin, Kari. The girl was so dramatic at times.

Their ancestor had married a Briton sorceress several centuries before and it was from this woman that the Limbo family possessed magic. Despite what Kari often said, they did not practice "gypsy magic" whatever the hell that was-though their family was Romanichal-they practiced the magic of the Britons.

She and Kari were the only magic users of their generation, but there were numerous cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, and grandparents with magic of their own. Generally, any child born into the family would learn either from their own parents or grandparents, or, if need be another family who would come to live with their branch of the family until the child learned all the family magic.

Irma had been accepted to Salem Academy of Witchcraft entirely by accident. There had been some sort of clerical error or perhaps the school administration had not noticed that Irma was a Limbo, and as a result, was already learning another branch of magic. Whatever the cause, Irma had been the first member of the Limbo family to be accepted to a Wizarding school of magic, and the entire family had insisted she attend so that she could learn new forms of magic which might benefit the family.

Her eyes widened as two girls walked into the library, worried looks upon their faces. She could feel it from where she was sitting. Magic was thick around both girls. It seemed that neither had learned how to clear their auras after doing powerful magics or magical rituals. They were just lucky that most Wizarding never bothered to learn how to sense magic.

Part of Irma was shocked by the identity of the girls, part of her was kicking herself for not realizing who it had been earlier. Of all the students Irma knew, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood were the most dedicated to learning for the sake of knowledge alone.

The only question was, what was she to do now that she knew who the perpetrators were?


	11. Intimations Part 2

Author's Note; Ok, I've switched the Luna poll with one about Hermione, because I realized that it was a bit unfair to ask your opinion on Luna and not on Hermione. Just treat this poll as if the poll on Luna has no bearing on it.

* * *

Chapter 10

"Good morning, Miss Lovegood, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as she and Luna turned to look at the source of the voice. Had Madam Pince realized that they were the ones to do the spell the night before?

Madam Pince stood in such a way that she blocked their only way of escaping on foot. Her arms were crossed and there was a stern look upon her face.

"Good Morning Madam Pince," the girls echoed in unison.

"I think the three of us should have a talk," she said, pitching her voice so it would not carry.

"We're going to talk?" Luna asked. "Just the three of us."

"I see no reason to bring anybody else into this conversation at the moment."

"I-ok," said Hermione, part of her horrified that she'd so clearly flaunted the rules, part of her terrified that that was all she could think of.

"Why don't the two of you come to my office in half an hour for lunch?"

It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

Madam Pince didn't wait for their agreement. By the time they were able to form an answer to her invitation, she was long gone.

"She knows," whispered Hermione.

Luna nodded. "We should-we should put these back where we found them, just in case."

"Yeah," said Hermione. It might make it harder for Madam Pince to know what they'd been looking at.

By the time the two of them had put away their notes and replaced the books, it was a quarter to noon. The two walked slowly in the general direction of Madam Pince's office, neither quite sure what to say.

Finally, Luna asked, "What do we tell her?"

"She already knows we did the spell, I think. But let's let her talk a bit until we know she knows. There's no reason to out ourselves if we don't have to."

"So we admit it. She's going to want to know what spell we did."

Hermione let out a sigh. "We might need to tell her."

"Are we going to tell her everything?"

"No-not unless we have to. Not unless we have no other choice. Do you-do you think we can trust her?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I," Hermione said mournfully. "Neither do I."

* * *

Irma paced her office restlessly, occasionally checking the platter of food and the pitchers of milk and cranberry juice she'd had a house elf bring up. She flatly refused to touch pumpkin juice or to have it anywhere near her if she had a choice.

What was she doing? This was insanity. She wasn't at all qualified to talk to two girls doing not-quite-illegal magic.

But who else was there? The Aurors would overreact and things might get ugly. The professors at Hogwarts would never treat the girls fairly again if they knew. And Dumbledore… Irma wasn't sure she trusted Dumbledore, and until she knew, she would not bring this matter to him.

There was nobody at Hogwarts, besides her, who was a fully trained practitioner of another branch of magic. There was a seventh year Ravenclaw who was half trained, at best, but the girl did everything in her power to keep attention from herself. And she was a girl.

At noon precisely, someone knocked on the door to her office. Irma opened the door quickly. Miss Lovegood and Miss Granger stood in the doorway, their faces drawn.

"Come in, girls," she said, closing the door behind them. "Lunch is set up right over here."

The girls silently trailed after her to the table, taking the seats indicated. Obviously they were upset about being caught. Or perhaps terrified about being turned in. Irma thought back to the conversation she'd had with Luna the previous school year.

"The house elves were kind enough to send up mutton and various cooked vegetables for lunch," explained Irma, removing the covering from the platter.

After a moment, the girls began to take food from the platter and put it on their plates. Irma followed suit. Once everybody had food and drink in front of them, Irma felt free to talk.

"I didn't attend Hogwarts, you know," Irma said quietly.

"You didn't?" asked Hermione.

"Salem Academy of Witchcraft, class of '84. I don't think they would have accepted me, if they'd known I was a Limbo."

"What do you mean, a Limbo?" said Luna.

"A member of the Limbo family. My mother was a Limbo, you see, so I use my father's surname. I think that's how they missed it," Irma explained. "The Limbo family has been practicing magic since the mid sixteenth century-and despite what those Pureblood bigots say, marrying Muggles regularly has done nothing to water down our magic."

"The Limbos don't practice Wizarding magic," announced Luna.

"No, they don't. Most of the family magic is based off of the magic the Britons used, but not all. Occasionally a family member would marry a practitioner of another form of magic, or would be apprenticed to a magic user who practiced another form of magic, and in that way, our knowledge of magic, and skill level has grown. It's why I was sent to Salem, so that I could bring back Wizarding knowledge to the family."

She watched as the girls mulled over what she'd said. Finally, Hermione said, "I'm really the first magic user in my family."

"The Lovegoods have only practiced Wizarding magic for centuries," said Luna.

"Until last night," said Irma.

The girls said nothing, but then, they didn't have to. The looks upon their faces revealed the truth.

"What spell did you two do last night?" Irma asked quietly.

"It was a ritual, not a spell," Hermione said quietly. "I couldn't find the name of it."

"What was the ritual?" asked Irma, her dread growing.

Rituals were rarely good things. More often than not, dark magic utilized rituals. There were many which were not dark in nature, but in all honesty, Irma wasn't sure she'd put even demon summoning past these girls. Luna alone might summon a demon for the hell of it. Thoughts on what the two of them might come up with together when having fun were enough to induce nightmares.

Hermione and Luna shared a look before Hermione pulled a slightly crumpled piece of printer paper and a piece of parchment from her bag. She handed both to Irma.

Irma studied the papers carefully, noting how the spell and the ritual circles would go together. It was fairly simple, but not the sort of thing which Irma would expect self taught amateurs to be capable of. Then again, they were the most intelligent third and second years in the school. Finally, she put the papers down.

"Who did what?"

"We both draw the ritual circles. I lit the candles with my breath and knelt in the inner most circle while Lulu chanted the spell. I-I was the one who convinced her to do this," said Hermione. "If either of us is going to get into trouble, it should be me."

"I've no intention of turning you two over," said Irma. "Were you afraid somebody had obliviated you?"

Hermione nodded miserably.

"Did somebody do so?"

Hermione nodded again.

Irma felt slightly queasy at the thought. "Can you tell me who did so?"

"Aurors Williamson and Tate," whispered Hermione.

After a long moment, where Irma refused to think, she said, "They didn't do a very good job, now did they."

"No. There were… discrepancies in my memory."

"What did they erase?"

"They didn't so much erase my memories as… replace them."

Irma searched her memory carefully for what could have caused this. Finally, she asked, "What did you do?"

Hermione shook her head. Luna interrupted before either could say more, "Unless you are willing to swear a magical oath, we will say no more."

"Is it that serious?" asked Irma.

"Don't mind Lulu," said Hermione. "The ritual didn't bring back all my memories, just what the Aurors obliviated. Can you help me figure out where I went wrong?"

"I might be able to so, but it's doubtful. The mind isn't my area of expertise. Have you considered seeing a Healer or medi-witch like Madam Pomfrey?"

Hermione shook her head. "I can't talk to them about it. They might notice I dealt with the obliviation and I won't let my memories be erased again."

"I'll write to my family if you want. Aunt Melina and my cousin Kari specialize in magic which deals with the mind. They might be able to help or know who to ask for help. But you'll have to meet with them in person at some point."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you, I would appreciate it."

"I don't remember either," Luna said after a long moment. "Erma and I were together when we lost our memories from before that day. But then we got separated."

"Alright, I'll include you in the letter." Irma studied the two girls.

They were quiet for several minutes before Hermione said, "How did you find us?"

Irma smiled. "I felt you two do the ritual last night, but you were too well hidden for me to find you. When you entered the library, I felt the magical residue which remained in your auras from the ritual."

Hermione nodded her understanding.

"Does being a member of your family mean you can only teach those you are related to by blood or marriage?" asked Luna.

"No, it doesn't," said Irma. She had a feeling she knew where this was going. "Various members of my family often take apprentices. There are some spells we will not teach to those outside the family, but they're family spells and there are quite few of them."

"What would an apprenticeship involve?" asked Luna.

"Lulu," snapped Hermione.

Luna merely looked at the girl. It was in that moment that Irma noticed the resemblance between the two. Was it possible that they were related?

"The apprenticeship would last as long as necessary though generally, it is around three years. In the case of you or Miss Granger, since you are already attending an institution of magic, it might take a couple years longer. I would probably arrange for you to 'help' me in the library, which would be a perfectly legitimate excuse. The professors and staff often have student helpers or student apprentices."

What was she saying? She couldn't be seriously considering this. But she was. Irma was nearly twenty seven. By this time, most magical members of the family had already had at least one student, whether it be a Limbo or an outsider. Even Kari had had an apprentice.

And she knew that Luna Lovegood, for all her oddities, would take this seriously. As would Hermione Granger for that matter. Irma had thought she would not take an apprentice until she retired, simply because an apprentice might make it impossible for Irma to hide her knowledge of non-Wizarding magic. That would certainly have cost her any hope of remaining in the Wizarding community.

"I would have to talk to your family about staying with me during the summer while I visit my family. They would no doubt contribute to your apprenticeship," continued Irma. "It would mean a lot of hard work. Miss Granger, I would advise you to drop at least one of your classes."

"But I like them all so much," protested Hermione.

Luna raised an eyebrow at her. "Including Muggle Studies and Divination?"

"If you want to learn the true art of divination, even I could teach you that. Sybil Trelawny is a true seer, but she only receives the occasional prophecy, which is something she cannot teach to students," pointed out Irma. "She doesn't even teach you how to scry-which would be the most useful form of divination to teach students, since almost any magic user can scry when properly motivated. Wait-why are you taking Muggle Studies? You're Muggle born."

"I find it fascinating how the Wizarding view Muggles," Hermione said defensively.

Irma opened her mouth, then closed it. "Actually, that does sound interesting."

"Would you be willing to take on a second apprentice?" asked Hermione.

"Normally, no. But with two motivated girls like you, I might be willing to take you both on." Irma paused, "But listen well, if I take you on as an apprentice, what I teach is to be treated as just as important as your schoolwork. If you tell anybody I am doing this, you will face the wrath of the entire Limbo family. I won't have you two jeopardizing my position in the Wizarding community."

"I'll do it, if you're willing," said Luna.

"I-I…" Hermione trailed off as bead of sweat appeared on her forehead. She seemed to wrestle with herself, before finally saying, "I'll do it as well."

"Are you unsure?" asked Irma.

"I-well…" said Hermione.

"It's the compulsion," said Luna. "It keeps trying to force Hermione to follow all the rules, even the unwritten ones."

"The compulsion?" demanded Irma, aghast.

"The one the Aurors put on her when they erased her memories," explained Luna. "it makes her follow the rules-even bad ones-and treat all those in authority with respect, even if they don't deserve it. At least that's what we think it does."

"Sit still," ordered Irma as she gathered her magic and began to mutter a spell. A moment later, a bright blue light surrounded Hermione's head. "There really is a compulsion. A strong one at that."

She stood, "Miss Granger, let's get you onto the couch."

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione.

"I'm removing the compulsion. Now lay down on the couch."

A compulsion! She'd heard rumors that Aurors were on occasion permitted to use compulsions in the UK, but this was the first bit of proof she'd seen. Not that it was undeniable proof. The girls might be lying about who erased Hermione's memories or about who put the compulsion on the girl, but Irma was inclined to believe her. About this, at least.


	12. Arrangements Part 3

Author's Note: The poll is coming down when chapter 12 goes up, so vote now before you loose the chance to make your opinion heard.

* * *

Chapter 11

Hermione allowed herself to be led to the couch placed before the large windows with gauzy curtains. Once she lay down, Madam Pince knelt down on the floor.

"Just stay still and remain calm. I know what I'm doing," said Madam Pince.

With that she placed a hand upon Hermione's forehead. The air seemed to buzz as Madam Pince began to speak in a language which almost, but not quite, reminded Hermione of when Padma and Parvati spoke to each other in Urdu. It was the language of the spell Madam Pince had used on her moments earlier, when confirming the compulsion.

She blinked as she felt a weight lifted from her. Hermione sank further into the couch as Madam Pince fell silent.

No, it was not as if a weight had been lifted from her, it was if something dark and heavy had been stripped from her mind. She… she felt like herself again.

Hermione balked at that thought. How could she feel like herself if she didn't know who she was? How much of her personality had been that compulsion spell? And with a sinking feeling, Hermione realized that she had to continue to act as if she were under the compulsion if she wanted to avoid potentially detrimental attention.

But only publicly. Hermioen brightened slightly at that.

"How do you feel?" asked Madam Pince right before she began to say the original spell again. This time, the light glowed white.

"Good. Better than I've felt since," Hermione paused thinking, "I began Hogwarts."

"Good," nodded Madam Pince. "It seems to have been removed completely."

"How did you do that? What language were you speaking?"

Madam Pince gave her a hard look. "Do you still want to be my apprentice? Think before you answer."

Hermione followed her advice. Did she want to something which had the potential to essentially make her an outcast if she were discovered? Did she want to spend what was left of the joke she called free time studying? Did she want to learn a form a magic she might never again have the chance to study? Did she want to be this woman's apprentice?

"Yes. I still want to be your apprentice," Hermione said without hesitation.

"Alright. I'll speak to Professors McGonagal and Flitwick tonight about you two assisting me in the library. You need the permission of your Head of House. I would expect them to contact you within the next couple of days." Madam Pince paused. "I will explain how I did that spell properly in a couple of weeks, you two aren't quite ready for that just yet. The language was mostly a form of Romani with a little bit of Gaelic thrown in… Actually, why don't I give you two your first lesson now? Let's return to lunch and I'll explain."

Hermioen followed Luna and Madam Pince back to the table and began to eat slowly. What would this first lesson be about?

"There are some aspects of magic the Wizarding just don't talk about. At least not to students," said Madam Pince. "Magic does not need motions or words or rituals or symbols. Anybody with the inborn talent for using magic is capable of doing magic without these. However, magic without those things tends to… have a mind of its own. Words, motions, symbols, and rituals help to guide your magic-or, indeed, any magic-and shape what it does.

"You need four key things to perform magic successfully and have it do as you please. Thee things are determination, imagination, willpower, and discipline. First you must decide what you want to do-determination. Second, you must think about, or visualize how you want the magic to do this-imagination. Third, you must will the magic to act as you want it to-willpower. Fourth, you need the discipline to use your magic as you want when you want, and not when or how your magic or subconscious want-discipline."

Madam Pince paused, "I would not worry about taking notes on this today. We will be studying all four aspects of successful magic in great detail for the next couple of months. And once we have this mastered, then we will move on."

"Move on to what?" asked Luna.

"The use of words, symbols, rituals, and motions in conjunction with magic. These are particularly complex, and will take years to master. These spells are more focused, but much easier to loose control of."

"We're going to study wandless magic?" Hermione marveled.

"All the magic used by the Limbo family is wandless," said Madam Pince, a smile upon her face. "And did you and Miss Lovegood not use wandless magic when you did your ritual?"

"I suppose," admitted Hermione.

"Why don't you explain exactly how you lit the candles with breath? It's a perfect example of motion in conjunction with magic."

"I held the candle in my hands. I lined it up so that when I blew, I would hit the wick. I closed my eyes, and then I thought," explained Hermione. "I thought about fire-what it looked like, what it felt like, and even what it smelled like. Then I imagined the wick catching fire-a spark which caught on the wick and grew into full fledged flame. I wanted the wick to be on fire and then I blew."

"Yes, that is exactly what I'm talking about," said Madam Pince. "You decided what would happen, you imagined how it would happen, and you willed it to happen exactly as you had imagined it. Now, do you two have any questions?"

* * *

Hermione raised an eyebrow as a heavily burdened owl landed before Luna. It was still too early in the morning for Ron to be up on a Sunday and Harry was at Quidditch practice. Luna took the packages from the owl and gave the bird a piece of bacon.

"What'd you get?" asked Hermione.

"My magazines," explained Luna. "Seventeen, People, National Geographic, Soldier of Fortune, and Cosmo. Oh, and daddy found a new poster of Black Canary and Wonder Woman."

"Wait-Soldier of Fortune?"

"You should read it, it's really funny."

"Why didn't you just bring them with you on the train?"

"They're August issues. I can't get them until September. Everybody knows they're always late."

Hermione blinked. She shook her head. "Whatever floats you're boat."

"I don't have a boat. Do you want to make paper boats and float them in the lake?"

Hermione opened her mouth to object, then stopped herself. She'd finished all her homework on Friday. It wasn't going to remain this warm for very long. Why not?

"Sure. Maybe we can visit the Giant Squid while we're out there. Hey, do you think Mr. Lovegood could get me a poster of the Blackhawks? Preferably lady Blackhawk."

* * *

Luna watched as Hermione oh-so-carefully folded a piece of paper into the rough equivalent of a boat. It was perhaps a bit underhanded, but surely something needed to be done.

Hopefully this would help keep Hermione from focusing too closely on what had happened, at least for the moment. She was always so serious, she needed to have some fun every once in a while. And they were doing everything they could to regain their memories as it was.

It was not a solution. Luna knew that. But she had no idea how else to help her sister.

She wasn't sure what had happened in that brownstone. Not really. But she had her suspicions. Luna remembered how Hermione had looked when she had killed those men, how life had momentarily come back into her eyes. She remembered Hermione's dead dead eyes and the blood and the bruises and the ripped clothing.

She wanted to regain her memories just as much as Hermione did. The only difference-in Luna's opinion-was that she had a better idea of what might be found when their memories were regained.

Luna would do whatever she had to to keep Hermione happy and whole and healthy-except stop this quest for answers.

"Hello, ladies."

"What are you two up to-"

"-This fine day?"

"Hullo boys," said Hermione as Luna said, "Gred, Forge."

"We've been thinking."

"About our deal."

The twins grabbed a seat on either side of the girls. Taking pieces of paper from the pile, they too began to fold it into boat like shapes.

"Yes?" said Hermione, one eyebrow arched. "Have you decided on your first prank?"

"Patience, kitten," said Fred, tugging at a curl which had slipped from Hermione's cap.

"Kitten?" said Hermione, her voice that dangerous tone Luna well recognized from days before.

"I say, let's put these boats into the water," said George, in an attempt to save his twin from grievous bodily harm.

With much laughter and giggling, the four managed to put their boats into the water-though not without a close call or two. It was only Fred's sense of self preservation-well honed from trying to outsmart his mother-which led him to catch Hermione before she fell into the water.

As the boats bobbed and became waterlogged, Luna began to braid a flower chain. "So, what are we doing?"

"We haven't decided yet," admitted George.

"But we've made a list of ideas."

"Well, hand it here," said Hermione, holding out her hand.

A scroll was pulled out of George's back pocket and given to Hermione. Luna leaned over Hermione's should to read as she continued braiding flowers. As they went through the list, Luna pointed at one idea in particular which stood out to her.

"Are you crazy?" demanded Hermione.

"We could do it," insisted Luna.

"I suppose it would be a wonderful challenge. A test of our skills."

"Precisely." Luna connected the chain into a circle and put it on her head.

"What are you two looking at?" asked Fred.

"This," said Hermione as she held out the list to the twins. "Number forty seven."

"We just put that in as a joke."

"We didn't think you two would-"

"-be willing to do that."

"Is it even possible?"

"This is the one we want to do," insisted Luna.

The twins looked at each other an shrugged. Then twin smirks bloomed upon their faces.

"You know Forge…"

"What Gred?"

"I do believe this may be our best prank yet."

* * *

Miss Granger, please see me after class," said Professor McGonagal as students filed in to the transfiguration classroom.

"What's that about?" asked Harry.

"I volunteered to assist Madam Pince in the library," explained Hermione. "I think that's what this is about."

"What?" said Ron.

"It's just an hour or so every week night and a couple hours Saturday or Sunday morning."

"You're a nutter."

"No, Ronald, I'm motivated to learn and better myself."

What Ron might have said to that statement, Hermione never knew. He closed his mouth as Professor McGonagal cleared her throat. She quickly launched into a lecture about what they had learned the year before and should still remember.

As Hermione dutifully took notes, her mind wandered. It was hard to describe what it had been like under the compulsion. It was as if she didn't really need to think-not about the hard decisions, at least. She'd fought it a couple times-Norbert, the Philosopher's Stone, the Polyjuice Potion… but that hadn't been truly fighting ht compulsion. Not like when she first agreed to be Madam Pince's apprentice. Because, in a way, at those times she'd been trying to stop others from breaking the laws and the rules.

It had only been two days, and already Hermione knew that it had been easier under the compulsion. She hadn't had to think critically or make decisions. The urge to follow the rules and respect adults had usurped her ability to do either, had usurped her thoughts and dreams.

And now she felt as if she were adrift.

She stopped writing mid-sentence. Why was she taking notes on something she had learned two years before? She clutched her hand into a fist and then released it.

With newfound determination, Hermione looked up at Professor McGonagal and listened. When she heard something important, she would write it down.

By the time class had ended, Hermione had taken less than a fourth of the notes she normally took. Something, she decided, was worth celebrating-even if only on the inside.

She waited until her fellow students had left before she approached Professor McGonagal. The woman had pulled out a couple sheets of parchment, which she was perusing.

"You wanted to see me," said Hermione.

"Yes. Madam Pince came to me on Saturday. Do you know what we spoke about?"

"I think so, Professor."

"Do you feel yourself capable of assisting Madam Pince with your current schedule?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I do. Although I would like to drop Divination."

"May I ask why?"

"I find the subject too subjective."

"Yes… I could see that," said Professor McGonagal. In that instant, Hermione was reminded of how much distaste the woman had shown for Professor Trelawny the week before.

"May I assist in the library?"

"Yes. However," said Professor McGonagal, "If you're grades begin to slip, I will revoke this privilege until such time as you can bring them up."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Now, this form must be taken to Madam Pince. She is to sign it and take it to Professor Dumbledore. This is your schedule for assisting Madam Pince. It is non-negotiable."


	13. Distress Part 1

Author's Note: Okay, this is probably the last chapter I'll put up for the next week or so. I have two papers due on Wednesday and Thursday, so I'll be busy doing schoolwork. That said, enjoy.

Secondly, I know I'm not exactly kind to Madam Pomfrey in this story. This is for a reason which is really just too long to explain here.

Thirdly, you know who you are, I'm not at all annoyed about what you said.

* * *

Chapter 12

Hermione tilted her head to the side, as if considering something of great importance. Harry felt a chill go down his spine. She jotted down some notes on a piece of parchment, placed a bookmark, and continued her perusal of the book.

What was she working on? Unlike Ron, Harry had asked Hermione how she would get everything done with her hectic schedule. According to Hermione, she had a very strict plan of working on homework only between breakfast and dinner. Meals were social occasions, and not an appropriate time for schoolwork-a statement which had caused Harry to look at her askance. After dinner she spent an hour in the library on weeknights. Weekends were, she declared, to be her free time, excluding the three hours she spent between breakfast and lunch in the library on either Sunday or Saturday (subject to change because of either Hogsmeade weekends or Quidditch games). After helping in the library, Hermione had what she called free time to hang out and have fun.

"What are you working on?" asked Harry, after some trepidation.

"I'm researching methods of combining charms with potions," explained Hermione. She looked up, as if surprised by her own words. "It's just something I was curious about."

"Oh," said Harry, searching for something to say. "Can you look over what I've done for my Divination homework?"

"I dropped Divination," admitted Hermione.

* * *

Blue. A light shade of blue with just enough purple in it to make it look soft. It would start in the middle and work its way outwards, heading in each direction simultaneously until it covered the entire object. Her eyes snapped open as she willed what she had just imagined to occur.

The familiar buzz of magic enveloped Hermione as she concentrated. Her eyes narrowed as one side stretched out farther, distorting the expanding circle of color. No. She would not allow that to occur. Hermione reined her magic in sharply, bringing the expanding color to a halt.

She took another breath, and the color began to expand once more. This time more slowly. A moment later, the object was completely blue.

"Good, Hermione," said Madam Pince.

"I-I lost control," she said. "I almost turned your entire table blue."

"But you didn't," pointed out Madam Pince. "It's only your fourth lesson and this is the first night we're not doing theory. Yes, you lost control, but you halted the magic before it could do any harm. And you finished the spell. This was only your third attempt at doing this. And this is certainly your best yet. All you need is a bit of practice. Why don't you sit down, and think about how it is that you lost control while Luna takes her turn?"

Hermione nodded her agreement. She sat down on the couch and began to examine what had happened, miserably. She loved this work. She enjoyed doing this sort of magic more so than Wizarding and Hermione refused to allow herself to fail.

"Alright, Luna. Now, I want you to change this scarf to a different color. Do you know what color you want to change it to?"

"Orange," Luna happily volunteered.

"Alright, now get to it."

Hermione wasn't sure how to describe the difference between this form of magic and Wizarding magic. Wizarding magic felt… detatched. Almost as if at times it wasn't a part of her. It was just… too easy to do whatever you pleased with it.

Witchcraft, as Madam Pince had called the magic performed by the Limbo family, was as personal as Wizardry was impersonal. It was like using a piece of herself-but in a good way. And not only could she see results, but she could feel them She could feel the buzz of the magic that Madam Pince had so recently taught them to sense. Even the simplest of magics was incredibly difficult, but at the same time so much less constrained than Wizarding.

With Wizarding magic, it was dangerous to experiment and almost all spells were worked to death with arithmantic formulas before being attempted. With Witchcraft, it was more instinct than anything else. Spells could be created or altered on the fly-according to Madam Pince, so long as one was careful-without any ill effects.

"Well… it does have an interesting tie-dye effect," said Madam Pince.

"I like it," announced Luna.

"You can keep it, if you want," said Madam Pince.

"Oh goody," said Luna. "Look, Hermione, it's psychedelic!"

Hermione gave in to Luna's enthusiasm and giggled as Luna held up the thin cotton scarf. It was mostly blue with orange spots and swirls. "But whose is it?"

Luna shrugged. "We can share."

"Ok, as long as you don't mind my wearing it during the first Hogsmeade weekend."

"Girls," Madam Pince interrupted gently. "Now, let's clear our auras of excess magic."

Hermione closed her eyes. The second lesson Madam Pince had given had been on auras and how to take care of them. One of the most important thing was to clear away excess magic at the end of each day or after working a major spell or ritual.

Magic was not corruptive in and of itself. However, given a chance, Order and Chaos would nest anywhere-and both had the potential to be quite corruptive and dangerous. One of Madam Pince's theories was that Voldemort had exposed himself to powerful Chaos magics without clearing his aura, which may have led him to the path he had chosen.

Clearing one's aura every day could at times be a bit much, but according to Madam Pince, it was worth it. She called it upkeep, which was, according to her, better than letting outside influences pile up. If Order or Chaos was given a chance to stay within a person's aura, it would eventually end up within the person, at which point it would be nearly impossible to dislodge.

Admittedly, this was all very unlikely to occur. However, the more magic one used, the more the chances of becoming strictly a Chaos or Order mage rose. This was a fate nobody deserved. Who in their right mind would want to be locked into the endless struggle between Order and Chaos?

Hermione settled into herself as she examined her aura. She looked each piece of magic which lingered in her aura before loosening her grip and allowing them to drift away. It was not a particularly difficult skill to master, but it had taken most of their second and third lesson with Madam Pince to do so.

Once her aura was clear, Hermione opened her eyes. Madam Pince had already finished, if seemed, but it took Luna nearly two minutes more before she opened her eyes as well.

"Alright, Hermione, can you tell me where you went wrong during your last attempt?"

"I didn't pay enough attention to my magic, so some of it tried to go beyond what I wanted it to do," explained Hermione.

"Yes. How would you avoid making this mistake in the future?"

"I should work on my discipline and keep a closer eye on my magic whilst working spells."

"Good. Luna, do you know where you went wrong?"

"I was distracted by the nargles in your flowers. I didn't pay enough attention to how I wanted it to change to orange."

Madam Pince blinked. "Uh…yes. And how will you avoid making this mistake in the future?"

"I will pay more attention to what I am doing."

"Good. Hermione, I thought I should warn you about why Professor Lupin is planning on doing for his first lesson."

Hermione looked up sharply.

"It's nothing dangerous-to most. However he is going to teach you how to deal with a boggart with a live subject."

"W-what?" she said.

"I see you are familiar with the creatures."

"I've read about them… but I've never encountered one," she admitted.

"Most children's fears are not particularly dangerous, but…"

Hermione nodded her understanding. "I-I don't know what I'll see, but I doubt it'll be particularly pleasant. Thank you for the warning."

* * *

They didn't notice-not that Hermione expected Harry and Ron to do so. They didn't see the way she did nothing to encourage them to get to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. They didn't notice her own hesitance, or even the circles under her eyes.

But even if they had, Hermione knew she wouldn't have been able to tall them anything. They would want to know how she had found out what their first lesson would be on. What is was that she feared so much, she had seriously considered skipping class.

And that was, Hermione supposed, part of the problem. She'd searched her memory-what little of it she could-and had been unable to discover what shape she thought the boggart would take. Hermione had even seriously considered searching the castle for a boggart, but something had stopped her.

Hermione was so distracted, she barely noticed the interplay between Professor Snape and Professor Lupin. She was concentrating so much on what the boggart might become and how to deal with it, she didn't care when Professor Lupin asked what a boggart was.

Hermione was second to last in line, with only Harry behind her. It seemed like the rest of the class took forever to take their turns. And then Hermione was the head of the line and it felt like it hadn't been long enough at all.

She hesitantly took a couple steps forward. The boggart wriggled a bit as if trying to decide a shape before it grew in size.

It was like looking in a mirror. The boggart was identical to Hermione physically. Or at least, identical to how she had looked at twelve. Her clothing was unusual, yet at the same time, felt right to Hermione. The boggart wore a simple full skirt which almost reached her knees and a blouse along with a sweater. It was, she realized, a school uniform. She carefully noted the patch on the sweater. It might be of use. After all, the boggart was using information from her head.

Hermione tilted her head as she studied the boggart, wondering why it had chosen this form. In that moment, the boggart grinned unsettlingly at her.

Hermione flinched back.

Slowly, the boggart's clothing began to soak up blood and body pieces from an unknown source. And still it smiled that mad, mad grin. And then blood began to roll down her face.

No. She wasn't. She wasn't insane!

Hermione felt her knees give way as she collapsed onto the ground. She wsn't insane! She hadn't killed those people for fun. She'd killed them to protect Luna. Hadn't she?

Hermione gasped in breath as the world began to spin. She wasn't a murderer! She wasn't.

But she was. Hermione knew that she was. She had killed those men. Killed them dead dead dead. And now she understood well how Luna had felt right before taking them forty years into the future.

Tears rolled down her face. People were dead because of her. She'd murdered them. She was a murderer.

And then her vision went white.

Distantly, Hermione heard Professor Lupin say something, but she just didn't care. Part of her felt like she was back in that room with Luna and the crier who became the screamer and the body parts of the men she had killed.

A hand reached toward her face and Hermione reacted on instinct.

* * *

"Ow! She bit me!" exclaimed Ron.

"Shut up," said Harry.

"But she bit me."

"Of course she bit you," snapped Harry. "She's terrified and crying and you head straight toward her face. What else did you expect her to do?"

Harry knelt down next to Hermione, careful not to touch her. He wasn't sure why the boggart had taken that form, but obviously it had meant something important to Hermione. The damn thing had scared Harry, just with that twisted grin. He couldn't imagine what it made Hermione feel.

"Hermione? Can you hear me?" asked Harry. "Professor Lupin sent Dean and Seamus to get Madam Pomfrey. She'll be here soon. Everybody else just left. I think Professor Lupin just dismissed the class. Oh, Professor Lupin just came back."

A small hand hesitantly reached out. A moment later, Hermione held his hand tightly.

"How is she?" asked Professor Lupin as he knelt down next to Harry.

"I think she's coming out of it."

Still gripping Harry's hand, Hermione carefully sat up. The next thing Harry knew, Hermione was clutching hard, crying into his chest. Helplessly, he began to stroke her back.

"What happened here?" demanded Madam Pomfrey as she swept into the room.

Professor Lupin quickly explained the situation. After he finished, Madam Pomfrey knelt down beside Harry and Hermione. She pulled out her wand and began to mutter spells.

Finally, she straightened. "It's just in her mind. Give her some of that chocolate of yours and she'll be fine."

"She's hysterical," protested Professor Lupin.

"She was merely frightened. She'll be fine."


	14. Shenanigans

Author's Note: As promised, the next chapter.

I know this chapter is a bit on the short side, but this is where I felt comfortable stopping.

* * *

Chapter 13

Hermione was curled up in a newly created arm chair, sipping hot chocolate. She and Luna had spent the better part of the day transfiguring furniture and putting posters up in their confiscated tower rooms. It had been yet another attempt to distract her from the troubles of her life, and like with all the other attempts Luna tried, Hermione had gone along with it.

She briefly considered writing, but Hermione quickly dismissed the idea. The boggart incident from two days before and the return of some, but not all, of her memories was just too new. Too raw.

Finally, she said, "I want to know."

"Know what?" asked Luna.

"Everything."

"Erma," Luna said quietly. "Be patient for a little while. It will be a couple months before we can see Madam Pince's cousins. What are you going to do? Feed Williamson and Tate some veritaserum? Break into the Ministry of Magic? They don't know who we really are or what truly happened to our memories any more than we do."

"No. But they know something."

"This is insanity."

"I don't care."

"Alright," sighed Luna. "How are we going to start?"

"With what we can do in the UK," decided Hermione. "We start with Muggle sources and move on to magical. The Muggle hospital records from St. Lucinda's-the records I found in the Granger's house were from St. John's and I distinctly remember being in St. Lucinda's in Aberdeen. We'll also have to find the records of the police investigation, if there was one. I saw a school patch on the boggart. I think the school is in the United States, but we can start to search for it now."

Luna tilted her head to the side. "I can do you one better. I think I might still have my school uniform at home. I know Mummy cleaned it-but I think she died before she could do more than put it into storage."

"Alright. When we're in the U.S., we start searching for the school and police reports of the incident, we try to find our birth certificates or missing persons reports if possible. We have a general idea of what day the incident occurred on, so that should narrow it down."

"And the Aurors and the Ministry?"

"We're not ready yet," sighed Hermione. We don't know enough magic."

"I'm going with you to find this information."

"I-Lulu-you're…"

"This is just as much about me as it is about you. And you'll need backup."

Hermione nodded her agreement. "We'll need to plan this carefully. We can't do any of this publically, we'll have to break in to find these records. I won't risk the ministry finding out."

* * *

Hermione sat in a relatively deserted corner of the common room. She could feel the eyes upon her and hear their barely concealed whispers.

She's known for a long time that Madam Pomfrey did not like her. In all honesty, she understood where the woman was coming from. Madam Pomfrey knew she's unsuccessfully attempted to use polyjuice potion the year before. But this was just ridiculous.

Admittedly, she'd been hysterical, but, Hermione reflected, she'd been in the middle of a serious break down. The woman should have done something more-even with Draco's constant histrionics. Even that did not excuse the woman's actions.

Did she know something Hermione did not?

And then she saw red.

Had Madam Pomfrey been aware of her criminal history?

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione looked up at Harry, her eyes far too old for her face. And in that instant, Harry realized that despite what he had thought, her childhood had probably been as difficult as his own.

She shook her head. "It's not… it's not important."

"Are you sure?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'm here if you want to talk about it."

"I know. You're a good friend, Harry." And in that instant, the haunted look slipped from Hermione's eyes and back behind the mask. "Let's go challenge Ron to a game of chess."

"Maybe we'll actually win if he let's us work together," joked Harry.

* * *

"Alright, this is the last chance to back out," announced Fred.

"We've come too far for that," argued Hermione.

"Let's get this party started," said Luna, a frightening look upon her face.

"You two handle the dorms-"

"-We already have the-"

"-Passwords and locations."

"We'll handle the Professors and the staff."

"Meet at the great hall at three."

"We'll deal with the classrooms after."

With a nod, the quartet split into duos. Whilst George and Luna went to deal with the Gryffindors, Hermione and Fred set off toward the staff quarters.

Fearful of what Madam Pince might do-for surely she would recognize her apprentices' handiwork-Luna and Hermione had warned her the night before. Madam Pince had merely smiled, shook her head in exasperation and agreed to play along. Then she'd handed Hermione a lock of her hair.

Hermione was still amazed how easy it was to tie in the charms to the potions they intended to use. It they were caught, they would be suspended at the very least. But Hermione just couldn't bring herself to care.

Hermione had to admit that part of her was made uncomfortable by the prank. But all it truly did was keep people from being able to reveal their true identities and gently encourage them to play along until the potions wore off at precisely six in the evening. Unless a person was in true danger. It was not a true compulsion-merely a potion induced suggestion which would wear off eventually.

This was made even more complicated by what the other potions and charms did. The quartet was choosing at random-and in some cases not so random-who would be affected by the potions and who would be affected by the charms. Those who would be affected by the potions would loose a lock of hair to the quartet, which would be added to the potions before the prank began. Hermione, Luna, and George had already donated locks of hair.

The quartet met up in the Great Hall before continuing their quest to prank the entire school. Once the classrooms were done, they collected the potion in the twins' private rooms. The hairs which had been collected were added to the potion, where they quickly dissolved.

* * *

Hermione ate slowly, wanting to see at least some of the results of her late night activities. She sipped her pumpkin juice, noting with satisfaction that the potions added to all the drinks were tasteless when combined.

The twins had originally intended to do it on Halloween, but Hermione had vetoed that idea, citing the anniversary of the Potters' deaths and that it was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. So instead, it was the second Friday of October.

At precisely nine, the various potions and charms took effect. There was silence as people tried to figure out what had happened. Hermione stood and moved off to the side as people began to voice their alarm.

Every person whose hair had been collected had switched appearance and clothing with another person whose hair had been used. A quick glance in the mirror showed that Hermione appeared to be Professor Vector, who was in charge of arithmancy.

Those whose hair had not been collected were affected as well. There were several Professor Snapes and a dozen Weasley twins. And that was excluding the duplicates of other students. Only those whose hair had been used were singular in appearance-even if that appearance was wrong.

* * *

Chaos reigned.

It was, Irma decided, quite amusing.

Admittedly, the chaos was only worsened by Professor Dumbledore-was that Professor Dumbledore? She thought she'd seen one of the twins turn into him-who had announced that classes were to continue as usual.

With a glance at her reflection in a mirror, Irma noted she was a third year Gryffindor. Lila? Leanne? Lilac? Lily?

"Lavender?" asked another student.

She shook her head fiercely. "She's my roommate."

"Oh, hullo Hermione," said the person. "Harry, Ron, I told you I could find Hermione."

As two other people approached, Irma smirked mentally. It had been quite a while since her last day off from the library. She fix what happened in her absence tonight.

"There you two are," she cried. "I've been absolutely worried. Who would do so immature a prank?"

* * *

Like clockwork, everybody who had not given hair for the potion changed appearance in the middle of every class and when they walked in to or out of a classroom or the Great Hall. Hermione took it all in with barely controlled laughter as she taught various Muggle Studies classes. It seemed that people automatically believed she was really Professor Blake merely because she had taken over teaching Blake's classes.

For lack of anything better to do, Hermione talked in general about various advances made by Muggles in the previous fifty years. She did an overview of the Muggle side of World War II and went on to talk about planes and computers and aliens, alien invasions, and superheroes.

Professor Blake may have been an idiot, but she was useful to Hermione. It was from her that Hermione had learned how purebloods such as Professor Blake viewed Muggles.

* * *

"I just love your hair," announced Luna. "Where do you get it done?"

"Malfoy?" said a Harry Potter lookalike.

"I just can never get my hair so… messy, no matter how much gel I use." Luna paused, then adopted an excited grin. "We must talk about hair products."

"Draco, do you feel alright?" asked Pansy as Millicent.

"I told you he was gay," pointed out Daphne as Crabbe.

* * *

Walking through yet another group of arguing Weasley twins, Hermione mused that the prank had been quite the success. She made sure to turn into an empty hallway when the clock struck six. She brushed off her skirts and straightened her sleeves after the charms and potions wore off and then continued on to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Harry, Ron, there you are!" said Hermione as she saw them. "I've been looking for you two all day."

"Hermione?!" said Harry.

"What do you mean you were looking for us all day?" demanded Ron. "You were with us the entire time."

"My appearance kept changing," protested Hermione, "and every time I tried to tell somebody who looked like you, I couldn't say who I was."

"B-but," said Ron.

"I told you she wasn't really Hermione."

"What did this person do?" demanded Hermione, not really caring at all what her counterpart had done.

* * *

"Did you have fun teaching class?" asked Irma the next morning.

She'd spent more of the previous evening than she cared to think about in a staff meeting. It seemed that only she and Professor Lupin had truly been amused by the entire incident. Hermione and Luna were incredibly lucky not to have been caught.

"Yes ma'am," said Hermione.

"I'd keep my head down for a couple weeks if I were you," she advised. "Not everybody enjoyed themselves as much as Professor Lupin and I did."

"I will."

"Alright girls, let's get started. Each of you create a soft, air filled rubber ball, roughly a foot in diameter."

Once two rubber balls were created, Irma led the pair into an empty room in the back of the library. She closed the door behind them.

"We're going to play a game today," explained Irma.

"What sort of game?" asked Luna.

"A good, old fashioned, American game: Dodge Ball."


	15. Designs

Author's Note: An entirely new poll is up, because I want to double check what pairings you would prefer for Hermione. Please go vote.

Secondly, I know this chapter doesn't have much action in it. Next chapter will be much more interesting. I just had to get this out of the way first.

Thirdly, for those of you who think I'm moving too fast, think about what they're planning and what sort of world they live in. That's all I have to say on the matter. Unless you have a really good question.

* * *

Chapter 14

Hermione tilted her head to the side. "You can do that?"

Luna looked up from the skirt she was embroidering and nodded enthusiastically. "Mummy started teaching me before she died and I continued studying it afterwards. It used to be a very popular pastime for witches."

"But you can embroider magic into cloth."

"Yes. All sorts of magic-protection charms, heating or cooling charms, charms to keep the clothing from getting dirty-just to name a few."

"What about disillusionment?" Hermione asked speculatively.

"I don't think I could do that, precisely, but we could probably so something similar." Luna paused. "I was thinking about our… Muggle activities. I know that it might bring trouble upon us, but perhaps we could dress in a similar manner to Superheroes. I don't mean anything skin tight, but a uniform of sorts which would obscure our identities and ensure that if people were to look for us, they would search in the Muggle community."

"Lulu…"Hermione paused, thinking about the suggestion. "Actually, that would probably be a very good idea. Few Wizarding would have any idea where to start searching. They're woefully uninformed about what's been happening the past fifty years or so in the Muggle community. But how are we going to do this?"

"We buy the cloth and the dye-maybe some leather as well-and we make the clothing ourselves."

"Including boots and gloves? We don't want to leave any fingerprints and if we slip up, somebody might recognize our own footwear."

Luna nodded. "I can embroider the magic we agree on into the clothing and even on leather. I think I know how to make sure boots make no sound when a person is walking."

"I can sew the clothing," Hermione volunteered after a moment. The last time she'd sewn by hand, she'd made a new dress for herself. The Grangers didn't understand Wizarding fashion nor did they understand why Hermione insisted on wearing Wizarding clothing. "I'd rather sew than embroider. I hate doing embroidery. Do you have any patterns?"

Luna shook her head. "I usually buy my clothing or drape it on a manikin and see what I come up with."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "Why don't we figure out the magic you'll embroider into the clothing, and then I'll make something which will work with that."

"I can ask Daddy to send me my manikin, it can adjust its size to any specifications we desire."

"Alright. I suppose I'll buy the cloth when I'm in Hogsmeade the weekend after next. So we need to decide over the next week and a half what we're doing."

"I'll give you my allowance-this is for both of us, after all. You should probably buy some leather, thread, yarn, and needles while you're there. Oh, and leather laces, fabric laces, and buckles-for the shoes if nothing else."

"I should be able to manage to get all that with out combined resources. But until we have a design worked out, it's useless."

"Hmmm, wait here. I need to go back to Ravenclaw Tower and get something."

"What?"

"A book-the Lovegood women had been recording their embroidery patterns in it for generations. I might be able to find the combinations we need."

* * *

Sitting upon an overstuffed chair behind a table, Hermione carefully sorted pages of drawings, a stack of clean sheets of parchment before her. It took her several moments to realize that Ron and Harry had joined her at the table.

"Ron, does your mother have any shoe patterns?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

"Uh, no. She buys shoes most of the time."

"Oh. Ah well. Harry, Ron, can I look at any pairs of boots you two might have?"

"I guess," Harry said unsurely. "Why do you want to look at them?"

"Luna and I are working on a project," she explained absentmindedly. "Oh, and can I look at your Quidditch gloves?"

"Sure. I'll go get them."

With a glance and a barely noticed shrug, the boys ran off. Hermione jumped when, several minutes later, the table shook. She looked up and blinked. Before her were a couple pairs of boots and two worn pairs of gloves.

Hermione smiled, "Thanks, guys. Which are the most comfortable for walking and running?"

"Uh, these are the most comfortable," said Ron, pointing to one pair.

"These," said Harry, pointing to another.

"Thanks," said Hermione, right before she pulled both pairs forward.

Without a second thought, she quickly began to examine them, inside and out. Once done, she began to sketch both pairs of boots. A couple minutes later, she placed the boots back with the others. Then she took a look at the gloves and repeated the process used with the boots.

"Thanks for letting me look at these," said Hermione.

With that she went back to sketching out their uniforms in pencil. It seemed that every article of clothing-including thick, knit hose were to embroidered, which meant that she would have to make the entire outfit and keep it separate from her normal clothing. At least Luna had offered to knit the hose.

Some embroidery patterns could not or should not be mixed, which meant separate garments. Or in this case that on top of normal Wizarding undergarments, there would be an under dress and an overdress along with a vest which would fit over all of it. Both girls had decided that adding in a robe would just be too much and make them too obviously Wizarding. There would be a mask which covered their entire faces, and a piece of cloth which could be used as a veil or a scarf.

The boots, gloves, and vest would be made of soft leather, made more durable by magic. The vest would also be made into armor of sorts, and if the embroidery worked properly, would become akin to a bullet proof vest.

Part of Hermione admitted that somewhere along the way, her quest for answers had gotten out of control. Trying to find answers was one thing, but dressing up in costumes and breaking into buildings was another thing entirely. But she was not a patient person. She never had been. And if this would help her figure out what was going on-prove that she wasn't a murderer, she would do it.

* * *

Hermione was trembling by the time they reached Hogsmeade. At least she was no long clutching his arm so hard he thought it would snap. She was still pale and sweating, but then, he was as well.

"Ron, I need to run some errands before we go anywhere else."

"Where to?" he asked.

"Lucille's Fabrics. And I need to find a leather merchant after that."

"Why?"

"I need to make some dresses, mine are getting a bit small. Do you think it would be cheaper to buy cloth and dye it myself, or should I buy it already dyed?"

"Uh…" said Ron, not sure how he had been roped into this.

* * *

Hermione examined the store's selection of cloth carefully. She'd easily found a nice soft un-dyed silk for the chemise. The strong threads were resistant to spells, but not, according to Luna, resistant to embroidered magic. And it would help to insulate in the cold weather so common to England and Scotland. It tended toward static, but Luna knew how to stop that from happening.

Her gaze landed upon a tightly woven, thin wool fabric. She ran her fingers over the bolt of fabric and decided she liked the texture. Hermione examined the end of the fabric, where it had been cut, noting that it was not particularly frayed. She took the end in her hand and moved it carefully to get a feel of how the cloth might move.

"Ma'am," said Hermione. "How much does a yard of this cost?"

"Two sickles a yard," replied the proprietor, Lucille.

"I'll take eighteen yards."

The woman nodded and took the bolt from Hermione's arms and grabbed an identical bolt from a shelf. "Will that be all today?"

"No, I'm still browsing," said Hermione. "Ron, don't touch that."

The woman nodded and counted off the yards Hermione wanted before cutting the fabric. "I'll leave it behind the counter with your other item."

"Thank you."

Hermione went back to browsing, until her eyes fell upon another bolt of fabric. It was gauzy, not-quite-sheer not-truly-opaque wool, which would easily allow any fabric underneath it to show through. Considering the needs of the overdress carefully, Hermione examined the cloth carefully.

"How much per yard for this, ma'am?"

"Two sickles, three knuts."

"I'll take twenty yards."

"Anything else?" asked Lucille as she cut the requested amount.

"I'm looking for some soft fabric to make some…" Hermione glanced at Ron. "undergarments. Just two pantalettes and two shirts. Something that will work well for any time of the year. Do you have any recommendations?"

"I'd suggest linen. It can be a bit cool during the winter, but so long as you layer correctly, you should be fine. Linen breaths like a dream during warm weather." Lucille motioned Hermione over to a bolt of fabric. "Three sickles a yard-it's a better deal than you'll find anywhere else."

Hermione looked at the fabric and then nodded. "I'll take ten yards. I was also looking for embroidery thread, needles, laces, buckles and dyes."

"Over along that wall."

"Thank you."

Hermione ignored Ron's bored yawn. She quickly selected what she needed and went to the counter. "This should be it. How much does it come out to?"

"Nine galleons, four sickles, eight knuts."

Hermione placed the requested money on the counter. Together, she and Luna had managed to come up with close to thirty galleons. This was far less than she had thought it would be.

"Thank you. Could you shrink it for me?"

"Of course."

"Do you know of any local leather merchants?"

"Take a left outside the door and walk down the street. Turn right on the third corner-that's Wall road and walk to the end of the road. The tanner should be on the left."

"Thank you. Have a good day, ma'am."

"You as well."

"Come along Ron, once we stop at the tanner's and a buy some leather, we can explore."

"Do you want me to carry your bag as well?" Ron asked petulantly.

"No. Thank you. Ah, here's Wall road. I do appreciate you coming with me on my errands."

"You do?" Ron said, slightly surprised.

"Oh yes. I don't like trying to find my way through an unfamiliar town alone. I was hoping that you could make sure we didn't get lost." Hermione knew she was manipulating Ron, but she was a bit ashamed about dragging Ron all over Hogsmeade on her errands. At least this way he would feel that she needed his help.

"I think this is the tanner's place," Ron said, obviously proud he'd spotted it first.

He opened the door for Hermione and followed her inside. She looked around carefully, noting the neatly folded piles of leather and pelts. Leather and fur was hung on the walls. Her nose twitched as a subtle scent managed to get past several spells obviously placed to keep the worst of the smell from potential customers.

"Hullo?" Hermione said shyly.

A moment later, a large man walked through a doorway and into the shop. He was large and wore trousers rather than typical robes. Over his clothing was an apron only slightly dirtier than his stained face and hands, which he was cleaning off with a towel.

"How can I help you, Miss?"

"I'm looking for some leather to make some boots with. Oh, and for gloves, two vests, and two belts. Oh, and wand holsters." Hermione explained, annoyed at how unprofessional she'd sounded.

"What sort of gloves?"

"Work gloves-for women-which can still handle delicate tasks."

"Hmm," said the man. "How many pairs?"

"Enough for four."

He quickly went to a pile and after a moment pulled out a piece of leather. "I'd suggest this, Miss. Soft enough to deal with more delicate tasks, but tough enough to protect your hands from most harm."

"What is it and how much does it cost?"

The man told her, "Deer skin. It'll cost you nine sickles."

Hermione nodded. "If you think it's best."

The man put the leather on a counter. "Boots?"

"Enough for four knee high ladies pairs. Uh, something which would be good for most terrain."

"How are you designing it?"

"As close to one piece as possible. The sole will be the same type of leather."

"Then I'd go with this…"

Hermione listened and picked out leather from what was offered carefully. She's never made shoes before, but she'd made slippers for herself on more than one occasion. Hermione paused at that thought. When had she done this? She didn't remember…

Hermione gave a mental sigh. While she liked knowing that her memory was still there… somewhere. The bits and pieces which floated into her mind irregularly were quite annoying.

"Do you have any pieces of deerskin large enough for a vest?" she asked, not quite sure why she'd chosen that.

"I have two, just imported from Canada, but they're expensive. Four Galleons each."

"May I see them?" Deerskin was the most durable type of leather. How did she know that? Hermione let the question go. She knew that if she pressed it, she would loose the knowledge entirely.


	16. Distress Part 2

Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in posting. Real life got in the way.

**Important:** Some very nasty things are going to be implied in this, and later, chapter. Implied, because I have no desire to write it out in detail, and in all honesty, I think it would be wrong of me to do so when I can suggest it instead. Also, I'm trying to keep the T rating.

* * *

Chapter 15

Hermione handed two, long, oval shaped pieces of thin, not-quite-sheer cloth and two, thicker, almost pouch shaped pieces of wool to Luna. Both pouch shaped items were gray, though one of them was much lighter than the other. The scarves were light gray and dusty brown respectively.

"The masks and scarf-veils, whatever," said Hermione, "are done. How are you coming on the stockings?"

"I should be finished by the end of next week. What are you working on next?"

"Undergarments. I need to have them done before I start draping the dresses." Hermione paused. "We never did decide on the color to dye them. We have black dye left, and a little of the brown."

"Maybe dark grey?"

Hermione nodded her agreement. "I'd say for both of us. I'm sure we can remember whose undergarments or who's without dying them different colors or shades."

It had been very easy to decide how to dye the cloth. Hermione had chosen various shades of gray, ranging from almost black, to a mid level cool gray. Luna, on the other hand, had chosen light, almost white grey and a pale dusty brown. Hermione had already dyed the leather to match; dark gray for her, and light gray for Luna.

They'd gotten quite a bit done in the four days since Hermione had bought the materials. More than Hermione had thought possible.

It had taken Hermione a bit longer than she would have liked to sew the masks, but the shape and design had eluded her until she'd realized that she could sew a button in the back, almost like the cuff of a shirt. As a result, the bottom of the masks, which went around the neck, resembled men's shirt cuffs, with three buttons placed in the back to hold it closed.

* * *

She ducked out of the way and slipped, barely managing to land correctly. Hearing the sound of something moving through the air, she reached out and willed it to stop.

Hermione looked up and smiled as she realized the ball was hanging in mid-air. As she stood, she willed the ball at her sister. This was their third game of Dodge-Ball-or at least, Irma's variant of the game. The girls ducked and dodged about the room, attempting to hit each other with the ball without touching them physically. Irma kept score, awarding points for hits, and removing them from those who dropped balls or fumbled a catch.

Over the past three weeks, they'd played the game thrice. It seemed that Dodge-Ball was to become a weekly event. Not that Hermione minded. It was a good exercise-physically and magically-which aided them in learning fine control and quickening their spell casting speed.

"Enough girls. The winner is Hermione, which makes our current game count, two to one, in favor of Hermione. As you know, the girl who wins the most games by the end of the year receives a prize," said Irma. "And no, I'm not telling you what the prize is, Luna. Now, let's release the excess magic from our auras."

Once that was completed, Irma continued, "Sunday morning, I may keep you a bit late."

"Ma'am?" said Hermione.

"I'm going to start teaching you two how defend yourselves with or without your wands against Dementors."

"Why?" asked Luna.

"There have been some… incidents in Hogsmeade. Nobody's been hurt-too badly-but the Dementors are growing restless." Irma paused. "You girls should be able to protect yourselves. Now, don't forget to send the letters I gave you home along with a letter of your own. I'm sure your parents would love to hear from you."

"Already sent," said Hermione. "I'll give you the reply as soon as I get it."

Luna nodded her agreement. "Daddy's in Timbuktu so it might take a while."

"Alright. Get going, you two, and have fun at the Quidditch game tomorrow. Gryffindor verses Slytherin, right?"

"Hufflepuff," corrected Hermione. "The snakes are milking Malfoy's injury for all its worth." She paused, thinking. "I think Buckbeak might be executed for this."

"They can't do that without a trial," pointed out Irma.

"Oh. If there's a trial, could you help us find a way to create a defense for him?"

* * *

"What did you do?" asked Luna.

Hermione settled herself back into her seat between Luna and Ron. "I put a spell on Harry's glasses to repel water and dirt. He was having difficulty seeing."

"Good thinking," said Ron. Neville nodded his agreement from the other side of Luna.

"GO GRYFFINDOR!" cried out Luna as the chasers made a good play.

Hermione absentmindedly adjusted the thick wool veil wrapped about her head and neck in deference to the wind and rain. "HIT HIM WITH A BLUDGER, FRED!"

"How can you tell which is which?" asked Ron.

"That's easy," said Hermione. She pointed at a twin. "That's George and that's Fred."

"Are you sure? Mum can't even tell them apart."

Hermione gave him a dark look.

In reply, Ron gulped, and then said, "If you say so. WOOD, HE'S FAKING LEFT!"

"BEHIND YOU, KATIE!" shouted Neville, having seen a Hufflepuff beater hitting a bludger her way. "Get it, Weasley!"

The four watched the game eagerly, occasionally shouting advice or curses at the teams. It happened so slowly, that at first Hermione didn't notice. She didn't notice the fog which began to seep into the stadium or the sudden chill in the air. Nor did she notice the way the crowd quieted. But she did notice the growing feeling of dread deep inside her.

Hermione shivered. "How much colder so you think it will become?"

"It's not the weather," whispered Luna, the blood draining from her face.

"Hey! They've seen the snitch!" shouted Ron.

And then the world faded to black once more.

* * *

"What happened?" asked Neville shakily.

Luna looked up and glared at the pair of boys. "She fainted. And Harry fell."

"What?" said Ron.

"Do you have any chocolate?"

"I do," volunteered Neville. "In my room."

"Go get it. I'll stay with Hermione."

"Harry fell off his broom," said Ron as he grew paler.

Luna bit her lip, unsure of what to do. What if Harry was seriously injured. Neville seemed to understand her dilemma, judging by his words.

"Ron, you go to the infirmary, try to find some help, and check on Harry. Luna, stay with Hermione. I'm going to go back to my room and get some chocolate. On the way, I'll see if I can flag down a professor."

"Don't bother," said Luna. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't like Erma." She paused. "Could you get Madam Pince? She'll help. We're her assistants."

"Alright. Ron, just check on Harry and stay by him. I'll get some chocolate and find Madam Pince."

With that, the two boys set off on their tasks. Luna looked down at her sister's prone body. The girl was badly shaken by the Dementors and on the verge of tears, but at least she hadn't fainted. Unlike Hermione. What had happened to her sister to cause this response?

Part of Luna admitted that she really didn't want to know the answer to that question. That she was beginning to wonder if recovering their memories would be worth it in the end.

Carefully, she straightened Hermione's body into a more comfortable position before placing Hermione's head on her lap. It would be easier to protect her sister from the wind and rain this way.

"What happened?"

Luna glanced up at Professor Lupin and then back down at Hermione. "The Dementors came and Erma fainted. Neville sent Ron to the Infirmary to stay with Harry while he goes and finds Madam Pince and his chocolate."

"Madam Pince?" asked Professor Lupin as he started to fish inside his pockets.

In that moment, Luna noticed that the stands had all but cleared. When had that happened? Perhaps she should pay more attention.

"We're her assistants," explained Luna. "And she likes us better than Madam Pomfrey."

Professor Lupin's face tightened. "Do you know why Madam Pomfrey doesn't like Miss Granger?"

Luna shrugged. "I think she thinks Erma's a bad influence on Harry. She likes Harry."

Professor Lupin pulled out a small chunk of chocolate. "Here. Why don't you eat this chocolate. It will make you feel better."

"But Erma-"

"Is still unconscious. You, however, are awake. Eat the chocolate."

"Yes Professor," mumbled Luna as she did as instructed.

Professor Lupin waved his wand. A moment later, the rain and wind stopped. Luna looked around, confused. She blinked as she realized Professor Lupin had merely set up a spell to shield them from the weather.

"Luna?!" cried out a familiar voice. "Hermione?!"

"They're over here, Irma!" shouted Professor Lupin as he sent up some red sparks with his wand.

"Oh, Remus," said Irma as she ran over. "Thank you for staying with them."

"It was no problem," protested Remus.

"I'm sure you want to check on Mr. Potter…"

"I'll stay here," said Remus, his tone making it clear the subject was closed.

"How long ago did the Dementor's leave?" asked Irma as she began to wave her wand, doing diagnostic spells.

"About twenty minutes, perhaps as much as half an hour," said Remus. "Do you have medical training?"

"Salem offers a first aid course to all students, second year and higher. It's been a couple years, but I know what I'm doing. Did she faint immediately?"

"She asked about the cold and then she fainted, but the Dementors weren't in the stadium yet," explained Luna. "She was-she was whimpering-almost like a puppy-and then the Dementors left and she got quiet."

Irma nodded her understanding. "We should let her wake up on her own. It would be better if we had some chocolate when she awoke. It would be best not to move her-we might wake her."

"Neville should be back soon," said Luna.

"How are you?" asked Irma, changing the subject.

"I'm fine," whispered Luna.

"I gave her the last of my chocolate," explained Remus.

"Luna…"

"I'm fine. It was no worse than what I dream every night," she admitted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Irma asked gently.

Luna shook her head.

"If you ever want to talk about it, I'm here, alright?"

Luna nodded her understanding.

In that moment, Hermione moaned softly. She shifted uncomfortably, burying her head into Luna's lap. A moment later, she was upright, eyes wild as she glanced around.

"Miss Granger?" said Remus, reaching out with his hand, but careful not to touch her.

Hermione flinched back and, a moment later Remus was flying through the air. He landed hard on a set of benches several feet away. Carefully, Remus sat up.

"I'm alright," he said.

Hermione began to shake. She glanced around, her gaze landing first on Irma, and then on Luna. Relief flooded her eyes as she began to tear up.

"Erma?" Luna asked gently.

Hermione shook her head as she began to cry. Carefully, Luna reached out to her sister, trusting that Hermione would not hurt her. When Luna's hand reached Hermione's cheek, the girl shied away. A moment later, the two girls were wrapped in each other's arms as Hermione as her cries wracked her entire body.

* * *

Remus carefully picked himself up and walked over to where Irma sat. "Do you know?"

Irma shook her head. "I don't. And I wouldn't tell you if I did."

"I have the chocolate!" shouted Neville as he ran across the stands.

"Thank you, Mr. Longbottom," said Irma. She took the offered chocolate from his hands. "I'm sure it will be a great help. Why don't you go back to your common room or visit Mr. Potter in the infirmary."

"Is Hermione-"

"Don't worry," said Remus. "And ten points to Gryffindor for quick thinking."


	17. Repercussions Part 1

Author's Note: I've done some research on the subject, but I'm not sure how Hermione's memory problems would effect her reactions, particularly in light of what exposure to Dememtors made her remember.

Also, there are huge, major hints at the end of this chapter about who Hermione and Luna really are. Yes, they are cannon characters (not Hermione and Luna, but the other people mentioned). They're just not quite as famous as others are. Enjoy trying to figure it out. Although in all honesty, I all but say who Hermione and Luna really are in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter 16

"Erma," questioned Luna. "Are you alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're very pale. You've been pale since the… since the game."

"I think I'm going to be sick," admitted Hermione.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "Do you want to go to a bathroom?"

"No…" Hermione closed her eyes. She felt dizzy. "Yes."

Luna gently removed the pantalettes which Hermione had not actually put a stitch in in several minutes from Hermione's hands, placing them on the couch. The two stood and left their tower sanctuary. It had taken them nearly an hour to convince Irma and Remus that they were well enough to be on their own.

They walked slowly to the nearest bathroom, several floors below. Every couple of yards, Hermione found herself fighting down her nausea. A moment after the entered the bathroom, Hermione found herself kneeling in front of a toilet, vomiting up everything she'd eaten in the past two days.

Hermione flinched as she felt something brush her neck.

"Shh," said Luna. "It's just me. You're hair was about to fall in."

A moment later, another wave of nausea hit her. Tears leaked from her eyes as vomit escaped not only through her mouth, but also her nose, leaving a burning sensation in its wake.

She'd known it had been a possibility. Really, she had. She'd even admitted it to herself.

But Hermione had honestly hoped that it was just her overactive imagination. That what she'd suspected was not actually the truth. Only it was. It was the truth. It had happened.

Dememtors could only make a person relive their worst memories. They could not create memories. In their presence, one could not make up memories either.

At least she knew why she'd killed those men. Hermione wasn't sure how she knew, but she was sure that the men from the memory the Dementors had made her relive, were also the men she'd literally torn limb from limb.

And in light of what she now knew, the relief Hermione was sure she should have felt just didn't come. She just couldn't bring herself to feel relieved over knowing that she'd killed those men to protect her sister from experiencing the same thing she had gone through. She'd still killed those men.

Hermione sat back, leaning her head against the wall of the stall. She barely noticed Luna pulling out a handkerchief and gently wiping the vomit from her face.

Luna reached over her to flush the toilet. She then stood and walked over to the sinks. Hermione heard the sound of water running. A moment later, Luna returned with a relatively clean and more than slightly damp handkerchief.

"Erma…"

"Don't, Lulu. Please, just don't."

* * *

It was around nine when Hermione left the shower, her skin scrubbed pink and her hair unusually clean. Dressed in her nightgown, she retreated to her bed, pulling the hangings closed around her and Crookshanks.

Though many were still in the Common Room, Hermione had retreated to the room she shared with Lavender and Parvati around eight, less than half an hour after she'd left Luna.

Hermione bit her lip, considering what to do with her time. She didn't feel tired, and had no desire to feign sleep. Absentmindedly, Hermione created a ball of soft, cool light and sent it to hang above the middle of her bed. It was soft enough not to be visible outside of the hangings, while still strong enough to see by.

She scratched Crooks behind the ears and under the chin. A moment later, she reached under the hangings and pulled a notebook, several pieces of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink from her nightstand drawer.

Still petting Crookshanks, she considered how best to continue the poem. She would not, she decided, talk about the memory the Dementors had brought back. Instead, she would speak of the memories she had regained with the help of Luna. Which meant she would have to add Luna to the poem. Normally, she'd have balked at the idea of rewriting so many verses, but, Hermione decided, she had as much time as she needed to do so.

But what to call her. Well, she'd already used Maia, Perhaps another person from Greek mythology.

Hera? No.

Ariadne? No, Luna was not that prideful or spider like.

Maybe Selene. It was the name of the Greek goddess of the moon, Luna's counterpart.

Maybe one of the Pleiades, like Maia. If Hermione remembered correctly, Maia was the oldest of seven sisters.

Taygete. Yes, that would work. Taygete had been in several stories with Artemis, who was associated with the moon.

* * *

Hermione barely managed to stop herself from screaming as she awoke. Only the fear of being questioned had held the noise in. She gasped, trying to catch her breath.

Gathering her bearings, Hermione looked around. Even in her sleep, it seemed the ball of light had not gone out. She'd drifted off in the middle of editing one of the twenty three verses she'd written that night. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she noted that the ink bottle was screwed shut.

Knowing she would not be able to fall asleep again that evening, she checked the time. It was not quite four in the morning. She'd leave the bed in an hour or so, Hermione decided.

Carefully, Hermione gathered up what she'd written, noting with satisfaction her most recent writings. Hermione hesitated at the thought of putting it away. What else would she do during the next hour?

She put the book and pieces of parchment down. Hermione bit her lip and opened the notebook to read the new verses again. She slid a piece of parchment and her quill to the right, intent on writing the changes she wanted to make on that.

In the middle of rereading the first of the edits she'd done the night before, Hermione found herself writing something other than the changes she wanted to make to a line.

* * *

Hermione jumped as she felt the bench move. She looked up, then relaxed as she realized it was only Luna.

There was a plate of food which she had been picking at for the better part of the past half hour to her left. In front of her were several, dutifully numbered rolls of parchment.

"Planning on finding a Crumple-Horned Snorkack?" asked Luna as she settled herself before the Gryffindor Table.

"No," said Hermione. She bit her lip, then said, "I'm writing a story."

"Mom was a writer," said Luna. "She wrote novels and Dad wrote poems."

She blinked, clearly startled and then shook her head. "May I read your story?"

"I-alright. It's not been edited yet, and I'm only halfway through, but you can read what I've written so far. The scrolls are numbered."

Luna filled up her plate and then took the scroll numbered one as Hermione continued to write her story. It was a short story about a girl named Roseanne who had inadvertently become the sidekick, researcher, and friend of a boy superhero called Jimmy, who already had a sidekick, named Bill.

Like with her poem, Hermione knew the story was autobiographical. Yet she really couldn't bring herself to care. In the story, the three children went to a school of magic hidden as a public school in London.

The story would only cover until the Troll incident. This was changed so that Jimmy and Bill had saved her in their superhero identities, only to be recognized by the damsel in distress, Roseanne, who knew them from school. There were also a couple mentions of Tamar, Roseanne's younger sister, though she did not make an appearance.

She knew the cover was thin-she'd used each of their middle names, rather than their given names. The professors at this hidden school of magic were based off of the professors at Hogwarts as were the students. Yet she couldn't bring herself to care all that much. It was incredibly unlikely that she would ever try to get the story published. And even if it were to be published, few Wizarding ventured far enough outside their insular communities to chance finding it.

"I like it," grinned Luna, as she reached for the second scroll.

* * *

Grim faced, Irma studied the girls before her. There were circles under both their sets of eyes and every couple of minutes, Hermione fought back a yawn.

"As yesterday demonstrated, it is important to be able to defend ones self against a Dementor," said Irma. "The patronus charm is the only Wizarding defense against a Dementor. Do either of you know what the patronus charm does?"

* * *

"Expecto Patronum!" cried out Hermione, as she focused on every happy memory and happy feeling she possessed. A creature of silver light burst from her wand before quickly fading away.

"Good," said Irma. "Luna, your turn."

"Expecto Patronum!" A silver hare began to jump about the room before fading.

"Good. It will be more difficult to do in the presence of a Dementor. Practice that spell at least twice a week. Now, let's move on to wandless techniques. We'll use the same words, because they have meaning, both for you and for the magic itself."

"We've never done wandless worded spells before," said Hermione. "I thought we weren't going to move on to that until Christmas break."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures. I'll not risk either of you being kissed by a Dementor." Irma's expression was fierce. "Now, pay attention as I explain how to do wandless worded spells."

* * *

In the weeks since he'd awaked from his forced sleep, many questions had filled Sanderson Hawkin's mind. Most were related to what he had missed during the forty eight years of suspended animation.

Although perhaps suspended animation had been the wrong term. He had been aware the entire time. Not that he would admit that to his former mentor, Wesley Dodds, who had put him in said suspended animation in the hopes of being able to discover the cure for Sandy becoming a sand monster.

It was startling to see how Wesley had aged. Even more so to see how Dian Belmont, his aunt and Wesley's… companion of the past five and a half decades, had aged. Worse still was to learn that she had terminal cancer and that she'd been given less than five years to live.

He glanced at a prominent photograph and shook his head. All the photos in the brownstone Wesley and Dian lived in in Manhattan showed images of Wesley or Dian or even Sandy, perhaps all three, or of Wesley and Sandy's former teammates on the JSA.

Once again he questioned why there were no photographs of Erma or Lulu anywhere. He'd often thought of the two girls while in not-quite-suspended animation. His little cousins had been six and four respectively when he'd accidentally been turned into a sand monster by one of Wesley's experiments gone wrong.

Had there been a falling out? Sandy shook his head. Even if there had been, there would still be photographs of the two up.

Were they dead? Sandy felt slightly dizzy as dread filled him. They couldn't be dead. But they'd been civilians around two superheroes, himself, as Sandy the Golden Boy, and Wesley, as the Sandman. It was entirely possible that one of their enemies had come after the girls.

Or perhaps it had been somebody his grandfather, Dian's father had annoyed. The man had been a District Attorney. Surely he had made enemies as well. Not to mention that Erma and Lulu had been the only children in the Belmont family-at least, they had been some forty eight years ago. Children were often the targets of criminals, as he well knew.

He straightened up and went off in search of Wesley. He had to know what had happened to the girls and he'd prefer not to bring up old traumas with Dian if something bad had indeed happened to them.


	18. Imprudence

Author's Note: I'll be either away from a computer or working on my Senior Thesis this week, so don't expect another update until next week or so.

* * *

Chapter 17

Hermione tilted her head to the side as she carefully placed another pin. "What do you think?"

"I like it," said Luna.

The first underdress was completely pinned, though Hermione had not yet begun to sew. It was Luna's underdress made of pale gray wool. The dress came up the neck a good two inches, like a turtle neck. The sleeves were loose and several inches too long, to allow for free movement, the cuffs buttoning so that they fit closely to the wrists. The dress laced up the back and the dress itself could be adjusted to fit properly with four sets of laces along either side in the front and in the back. The skirt was toe length and a-line, just full enough to allow for good movement and the hem large enough to lengthen the skirt should Luna grown, though that seemed unlikely. Luna was already as tall as their mother had been.

Hermione blinked, then shook her head. How had she known that?

"You're doing the same for your own, right?"

"In the dark gray," agreed Hermione. "Is the bottom hem too generous? I wanted to make sure there was some leeway incase you grew any taller."

Luna knelt and checked the hem. She then stood. "I'm already as tall as I'm going to be. You could take some of the extra from the hem and make it into a band to keep the veil in place."

Hermione nodded. "I'll tell you when I'm ready to do some fittings with the dress."

It was amazing how much one could accomplish when they didn't sleep much. That was not to say that Hermione was avoiding sleep. Quite the opposite. But it seemed that as soon as she drifted off to sleep, she was waking from a nightmare.

In the two weeks since the Quidditch game, Hermione had taken to writing until she fell asleep. When she awoke, she would go to their tower rooms and work on the sewing or write, depending upon how fresh the memories the Dementors brought back and the nightmares were.

Two pairs of gloves had been finished days before, and were only waiting for Luna's attention. Likewise, a pair of almost completed boots rested against one wall.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies."

"I do believe-"

"-We should have a word."

"What is it?" said Hermione.

Luna didn't bother to look up from the book she was reading. "They want us to help them prank the Slytherins."

"Let's do number three," said Hermione, referencing the list Fred and George had shown them months before.

The twins shared a glance, shrugged, and then nodded.

"We'll do it tomorrow night, if that's alright with you two," said Hermione.

"A bit eager,-"

"-Aren't we."

* * *

Harry blinked as he saw the commotion coming from the Slytherin table. "What's with them?"

Hermione shrugged as Luna gave him an innocent expression. "I do believe they're having difficulty with their food."

At that moment, Harry noted that some were stabbing their plates with their forks or knives while others were picking food up with their fingers. He contemplated confronting the two about this, then decided against it.

Hermione looked more well rested than she had in weeks. If pranking Slytherins was what it took to get those circles out from under her eyes, then so be it. He pointedly ignored the smug expressions on the twins' faces. It seemed that they had had a hand in this as well.

* * *

"I need to pick something up from Lucille's," explained Hermione.

"But it's so far out of the way," protested Ron.

"Why don't you go have fun. I'll catch up to you later."

It was the second Hogsmeade weekend of the year, and the day before term ended and most students returned home for the holidays. As it was, though Hermione would not be staying at home, she would be visiting her parents with Irma the next day.

Though Irma had already taken her as an apprentice, she wanted to speak to the Grangers about formalizing the arrangement and the possibility of taking Hermione with her when she visited her family in Baltimore that summer.

She'd met with Luna's foster father, Xenophilius Lovegood the weekend before, with Luna in tow. Hermione wasn't quite sure what had happened, other than that the man had thought Luna's apprenticeship a "splendid idea" and given his full and total permission for Irma to take Luna on any trip she wanted.

She was on her way to Lucille's because she needed to buy a belt buckle and Luna wanted thicker stronger thread to embroider the leather with.

Hermione was almost done sewing. She had only to make the vests, belts, and overdresses for both uniforms. Everything else had been finished. Luna had finished embroidering all the undergarments and was more than halfway through the light gray underdress.

She yawned and shook her head. She really needed to get more sleep. At times it seemed, even when she was awake, that she was walking through a dream.

After picking up the requested items, Hermione made her way through the town toward the Three Broomsticks. Halfway there, she paused, looking at the mass of students running around. Did she really want to be around them?

She changed her direction, wandering half heartedly in the general direction of Hogwarts. She flinched and spun around when something connected with her back.

Seeing the perpetrator, she gathered several small piles of snow and molded them into snow balls before launching them at Fred and George. It wasn't until they were in the air that Hermione remembered that she didn't have her wand in her hand.

The trio stared at each other unblinking for several long moments. Then, the twins shared a look.

"So, Kitten,-"

"-Want to have a drink with us?"

"The Hog's Head is-"

"-Right around the corner."

"The Hog's Head?" echoed Hermione.

"It's the other-"

"-Bar in Hogsmeade."

"Maybe that would be for the best," admitted Hermione.

The three walked quietly away from town, Hermione on alert for any and all danger, including any danger from her companions. The Hog's Head was a dusty, dirty little bar full of questionable characters. Hermione could see immediately why the twins would like it.

Hermione and George settled themselves in a booth against a wall as Fred went to get them butterbeers. Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket and began to set up secrecy and privacy spells, her wand hidden unwittingly from view by George. When Fred returned, three bottles of butterbeer in hand, Hermione tied the spells together around the trio.

It was, she knew, as safe as she could make it. It any tried to break through, Hermione would know and be able to counteract it.

"What was that?" demanded George.

"I don't suppose you'd accept accidental magic," said Hermione, her voice making it clear she didn't believe the twins would accept that excuse.

"No, Kitten. Not today," said Fred.

"If I tell you anything, I want your oaths-magically binding oaths-that you'll not knowingly reveal what I say."

"And if we don't-"

"-Give you the oaths?"

She gave the twins a look which could stop a rampaging hippogriff in its tracks. "Then I suppose I'd have to make your lives… difficult."

George paled, his freckles showing sharply against his skin as Fred grinned at her. "I knew I liked you for a reason."

The twins shared a look. Then they pulled out a sheet of paper and a quill.

"We won't do a magical oath."

"But we'll do a contract."

"I decide the punishment for those who break their word," agreed Hermione.

The twins nodded in unison.

Hermione carefully wrote down a contract which she could agree to and she felt the twins would agree to. Then she handed the paper to them.

"Break the agreement and I'll make out first joint venture look like child's play in comparison."

"I can-"

"-Agree to that."

Hermione cleared her throat, and started to speak. "You know I'm Muggle-Born, right?"

"Yeah."

"So?"

"There are other forms of magic practiced in this world, and those who practice these forms are not always as secretive and insular as the Wizarding." She paused, trying to figure out what to say. She would not, she decided, risk revealing Irma. And so, saying words she would later wonder the origin of, Hermione explained, "My parents are friends with some of these magic users. They knew I had magic. I'm assuming you can figure out the rest. After all, some people begin training children in magic before they're eleven."

It was the truth-she knew it was. But she wasn't quite sure how she knew. Nevertheless, though Hermione knew she'd had no magical training before entering Hogwarts, she'd managed to imply that she'd had some whilst remaining completely truthful.

"You can see why I don't broadcast this information."

"Don't worry, Kitten."

"You're secret's safe with us."

"You two even imply that I use non-Wizarding magic and I'll consider the contract broken," warned Hermione.

* * *

"Ma'am, we need to talk," said Hermione the moment she entered the library later that evening.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" asked Irma, clearly concerned.

Hermione shook her head, then motioned subtlety toward the students.

"Why don't we talk about this in my office," said Irma, picking up on Hermione's message.

"Fred and George Weasley know about me," blurted out Hermione.

"What happened? What do they know?" asked Irma as she shut the door firmly.

"About me practicing witchcraft. They threw a snowball at me and I reacted and I didn't think and I threw a bunch of snow balls at them in Hogsmeade with witchcraft instead of my wand and they were the only ones who noticed, but they demanded to know what was going on and I had to tell them something," she said in one breath.

"Calm down. Did anybody else see?"

Hermione shook her head. "It was a back alley. We were the only ones there."

"What did you tell them?"

Hermione quickly explained what she'd told the duo and pulled out the contract for Irma to look at. "I think they believed my story."

Irma sighed and then nodded. "You did well. I'm not angry at you. Everybody makes mistakes. Just… be more careful in the future."

* * *

Hermione bit her lip as she smoothed down her dress. Since she was visiting the Grangers, she'd taken care to dress in an outfit which was slightly more Muggle. Along with the typical Wizarding undergarments, she donned a pale blue violet dress and over it worn a cream colored surcoate inspired overdress which was sleeveless. The surcoate reached mid thigh and was slit halfway up her legs. She adjusted her pea coat and shifted her weight.

She and Irma were flooing to the Leaky cauldron before going out into Muggle London. Irma was then going to apparate both of them to Stonelake once they'd found a suitably deserted apparition point.

Irma carefully adjusted her Muggle skirt suit before grabbing a long, quilted coat which looked like it would be quite warm to wear.

"Ready?"

Hermione nodded.

"Hold my hand so you don't get lost. We'll go through together." Irma tossed some floo powder into the fire and led the two of them into it before she announced, "The Leaky Cauldron."

Hermione let of a shriek as she landed, almost falling. Irma led them out of the fireplace and made a showing of brushing Hermione off. In fact, she was directing the soot off Hermione's clothing using a combination of magic and the motion from her hands. Irma then did the same for herself.

"Come along," said Irma as she nodded at Tom and led Hermione out into Muggle London.

A moment later, Hermione was pulled into a back alley. She felt as if she were being pulled through a straw far to tight for her as they apparated. It had felt much like what Luna had done when she'd brought them through time, Hermione reflected.

"Which way to your home?" asked Irma.

"Two blocks that way," said Hermione, motioning.

They apparated again, this time landing less than half a block from where the Grangers lived. Hermione led Irma to the correct house. Irma rang the doorbell.

"Hermione!" said Gwendolyn Granger as she opened the door, sweeping the girl into a hug. "You must be Ms. Pince. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well. Please, call my Irma."

They were soon ensconced in the sitting room. Irma perched upon an arm chair and Hermione between Mark and Gwendolyn Granger upon the couch.

"Now, what's this about an apprenticeship?" asked Mark.

"Hermione and I have been speaking about the possibility of her accepting an apprenticeship with me," explained Irma, telling not quite the complete truth. "Hermione is a very gifted student and with this apprenticeship, she would have the opportunity to not only learn Wizarding magic at Hogwarts, but also witchcraft, a completely different branch of magic."

"I thought Hogwarts taught witchcraft," said Mark. "It's in the name."

"Hogwarts ceased to teach witchcraft some six hundred years ago," explained Irma. "However it kept it in the name. These days, the only way to learn witchcraft is through an apprenticeship."

"How did you learn this witchcraft stuff?" asked Gwendolyn.


	19. Reasoning

Author's Note: As of this moment, I'll probably be posting one or two chapters a week. My life is currently too hectic for me to try to post more often.

Secondly, I forgot to mention in the last chapter that the prank on the Slytherins was suggested by pstibbons, who said "cutlery that repels food."

Thirdly, before anybody comments, I never claimed my version of Hermione was particularly sane. That said, I don't think she would have that much of a problem brewing certain potions. She has certainly proved herself capable in the past.

Fourthly: In this chapter, we see the first of several changes from the book. I'm sure you can figure out which change I'm referring to.

* * *

Chapter 18

Mark and Gwendolyn Granger were silent for what felt like an eternity. Irma had finished explaining her offer several minutes before, having glossed over a good number of things.

She'd mentioned that knowing witchcraft was a useful form of self defense, comparing it to taking a Muggle self-defense class, and then had neatly sidestepped any and all mention of Voldemort, Death Eaters, and blood prejudice. Irma had spoken about how the apprenticeship would open doors for Hermione which Wizardry would not, while avoiding mentioning just how insular the Wizarding were.

And that was just within the first ten minutes of the meeting.

Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd been so impressed by an adult. Certainly not any of the professors or staff at Hogwarts.

"Is Hermione going to be your only apprentice?" asked Gwendolyn.

"No. I've taken another girl, Luna Lovegood as my apprentice as well. My family has found, over the years, that having two apprentices at once was useful for the student. They receive individualized attention whilst retaining the competitive atmosphere of a classroom and have a ready made study buddy."

Gwendolyn looked down and then nodded. "How much of the summer would Hermione spend with you?"

"I see no reason why it cannot be flexible. Perhaps a week at the beginning and a week at the end of summer with a third week in between, at a time of your choosing. Although I would appreciate being informed ahead of time."

"Do you want to this?" asked Gwendolyn.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, "Yes. More than anything."

"Alright," Mark nodded. "Hermione can do this apprenticeship."

* * *

Hermione was still smiling when she returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. Not only had her parents agreed to the apprenticeship, but they'd also given permission for Hermione to travel to the United States with Irma and Luna that summer.

It was Christmas break and she had nothing but time on her hands. Hermione hesitated at that thought, but then comforted herself with the knowledge that she would be very busy. She and Luna had already arranged with Irma to spend their mornings between breakfast and lunch in the Library every day of the week-at least until classes started again. In the afternoons, she and Luna had decided to all but camp out in their tower room, working on their uniforms and planning how to get out of the castle and how to get to Aberdeen to begin their investigation. The evenings-and probably parts of the afternoons as well-would be spent with Harry and Ron.

"Is something wrong?" asked Hermione, as she took note of the looks upon Harry and Ron's faces. She'd not seen either of them since she and Ron had split in Hogsmeade the day before.

Ron all but winced at her question as Harry gave her a look of anger. "Is something wrong?" he said, repeating her question. "Is something wrong? Yes, there's something wrong!"

"There's no reason to shout at me," snapped Hermione. "I've not done anything to you but be your friend."

"Some friend you are," snorted Harry.

"I'm sure she didn't come back for some reason," Ron said quietly, something about his manner making Hermione think that he'd said those words before.

"Well, where were you?" demanded Harry.

"If you must know, I was helping Madam Pince in the Library."

"Not now! Yesterday? Where were you yesterday?"

"During the Hogsmeade trip?" Hermione questioned.

Ron nodded miserably.

"After Ron and I split up, I ran into Fred and George. They wanted to talk to me about something, so we ended up spending most of the day in the Hog's Head," explained Hermione, knowing quite well that the best lies were the ones based in fact.

"Planning another prank?" said Harry.

"Why would you think something so foolish?" asked Hermione, making sure that she sounded as if she were hiding something. "Now, what's all this about?"

Somewhat sheepishly, Harry began to explain. Almost unable to believe her ears, she sat down heavily upon a chair. It was unbelievable that Harry had managed to sneak out of the school and into Hogwarts, and as soon as she'd heard this, Hermione had known that she had to have a look at this map.

And then Harry began to speak of the conversation he'd overheard. Of how he'd discovered that not only had Sirius Black murdered a dozen people, but how he'd been the Potters' Secret Keeper. How he'd betrayed them to Voldemort. And how he'd been Harry's godfather.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face as her mind raced. No wonder Harry was upset. That, however, did not give the boy an excuse to take his anger out on her. Nevertheless, she soon found herself comforting Harry. She knew, now, that it would be all she could do to keep him from going after this very dangerous man.

* * *

"Ma'am," said Hermione.

"Yes?" said Irma. Their lesson had just ended and Hermione supposed that she should be heading to lunch, but couldn't bring herself to do so just yet.

"Hagrid received a letter yesterday. Buckbeaks hearing is to be on April 20th." Hermione paused, biting her lip nervously. "I know I can't go with Hagrid to help him defend Buckbeak, but I was wondering if you would be willing to do so. I-" Hermione paused, hesitating to insult her friend so, before acknowledging that she had no other choise. "I know you promised to help us research his defense, and we would all be grateful for your help, but there's another problem."

"What's the problem?" Irma asked gently.

"Students can't attend the hearing, and I don't-I don't think Hagrid will be able to effectively defend Buckbeak, even with our aid. I was wondering-I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to go with Hagrid to the hearing and help him defend Buckbeak."

"I'll talk to Hagrid," said Irma.

* * *

"I'm not sure," said Hermione, tilting her head to the side. "It seems… impractical."

"But it needs to be loose and flowing, otherwise the magicl won't work properly," pointed out Luna.

"I'm not arguing the need for it to be loose and flowing. I'm questioning whether or not the sleeves should reach the floor. That's what seems impractical to me. Surely the embroidery can work just as well with sleeves that end just past the hand."

"Split sleeves?" said Luna, somewhat petulantly.

"From the shoulder down."

"Alright."

As Hermione began to pin pale brown, almost sheer fabric to the overdress to create the sleeves, she studied her design, quite satisfied with her work. Like the underdress, it was toe length and A-line. That was where the resemblance ended. The neckline was circular with a wide collar falling and would closely hug the neck of the wearer. The collar was circular in shape and would all but cover the shoulders and upper back of the wearer. Like with the underdress, there were several places which could be tightened or loosened about the waist, hips, and breast so as to fit, no matter what.

The skirt was a little less full than the underdress, but that was of no matter. There were dozens of carefully positioned slits in the skirt which ran anywhere from a foot upwards, to mid thigh. The skirt seemed to be almost… ragged, but that was something Hermione had intended. The scarf/veil was also "ragged" at either end, as would be the sleeves. This "raggedness" would aid the spell which would be embroidered into the fabric rather than hinder it.

The sleeves, Hermione decided, would be loose from the shoulder downward. The largest slit would reach from shoulder to wrist whilst shorter ones reached other, varying heights.

There was a reasoning for this "ragged" look. The overdress and scarf/veil were to be embroidered with the closest thing Luna could design to a disillusionment charm. The fabric would-hopefully-help the wearers fade into the shadows and blend in to their surroundings. The slits enabled the fabric to move however it needed to to ensure the near invisibility of the wearer. Although the magic would work better in the dark and in dim lighting than in sunlight. The only problems would be the vest, which was to go over the overdresss for maximum protection and the head, which was to be covered in a mask. However, Luna thought she'd solved the problem by adding the collar and the scarf/veil.

"So, what are we carrying in our belts?" asked Hermione, after a moment. "It seems to me that we should have veritaserum or some other, less powerful truth potion."

"I was thinking we should carry a supply of some sort of sleep potion-one which could perhaps be made into a gas," said Luna. "As it is, the masks also function as gas masks and filters capable of taking oxygen from water so that the wearer can breathe."

"When did you have the time to do that?" asked Hermione as she carefully cut a piece of fabric.

"I-the night after the Dementors."

Hermione said nothing for several minutes. "Do you think we should carry something such as Polyjuice as well? It's not that hard to make and you never know what might come up. I could brew the potions while you finish up the embroidery if you want."

* * *

"You received a firebolt," said Hermione, her voice deathly calm. "And you have no idea who sent it to you."

"So what?" said Ron. "It was probably Dumbledore."

"Ron, shut up. Harry, Dumbledore would not give you a firebolt. It's the most expensive broom on the market right now."

"But-" said Harry.

"Would the headmaster of Smeltings give his favorite student a Rolls Royce?" asked Hermione, trying to reason with him.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, and then seemed to reconsider. With a disappointed sigh, he said, "No. He wouldn't."

"Can you think of anybody, other than Dumbledore who would be willing and able to buy you a firebolt?"

"What about Professor Lupin?" Ron suggested wildly.

"The man wears robes that are more patches than robe. I doubt he has that kind of money." Hermione paused, hating that she had to do this to Harry on Christmas. However, she would do what was necessary to keep her friend safe from his own foolishness. "There are dozens of charms and jinxs one could put on a broom. And unless they were looking for them, the rider wouldn't know the danger until they'd been tossed off it a thousand feet in the air."

"You don't really think…" Harry said unsurely.

"We know that Sirius Black wants to kill you. He was a member of the Black family, they're very rich. I'm not sure the Goblins would care if he took money out of his vault to buy this for you-if he even bothered to buy it at all."

"You-you really think Sirius Black sent this to me?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility," said Hermione. "I'm not saying that we should destroy your broom-" She ignored the squeak let out by Ron "-but I am saying that we should have one of the Professors look at it and make sure that it's not going to try to kill you. I don't want you to-I don't want you to get hurt."

Harry closed his eyes, a look upon his face reminiscent of a kicked puppy. "Which Professor?"

"I was thinking Professor McGonagal. She's our Head of House and she loves Quidditch just as much as you two do. Surely she would try to get it back to you as soon as possible," explained Hermione. She didn't much like the woman, but she knew that McGonagall would make sure the broom was safe before letting Harry use it.

Harry nodded, his misery evident. "Do you really think Sirius Black would try to kill me with a broom?"

Hermione nodded. "Everybody knows you love flying and Quidditch. It wouldn't take much for him to find out about what happened during the last game."

* * *

"I feel horrible about it," explained Hermione as she tied off at stitch. "Like I kicked a person and then did a jig upon their prone body."

Luna blinked at her. "It had to be done."

"I know," sighed Hermione as she shook out the dress to get rid of loose threads. "It's ready for the final fitting. Nevertheless, I still feel like I wrecked Christmas for Harry."

Luna took the overdress and went behind a screen they'd set up months before to put it, and the rest of the outfit on. "It would have been a worse Christmas if the broom had killed him."

"True. But I feel like I have to make it up to him somehow."

"And how are you going to do that?" asked Luna.

"I don't know." Hermione shook her head. Luna stepped out from behind the screen. "Go stand on the stool."

Hermione slowly walked about Luna, examining how the overdress fit before setting to work tugging things into their proper places and pinning what needed to be fixed. "I just don't think there is a way to make this up to Harry."

Luna nodded her understanding. "He knows you only turned it in because you were worried about his safety, right?"

"That was the only reason he agreed. I had to compare a firebolt to a Rolls Royce to get the point across though."

Luna let out a snort. "Hermione, everybody knows that Silver Arrows are the Rolls Royces of brooms. Firebolts are like… the Lamborghinis of brooms."

"Oh," said Hermione, furrowing her brows. "Nonetheless, my example was still quite relevant. Take off the dress. I should be able to do the alterations before dinner."

"Oooh. We have two brooms-Daddy and I, I mean. Maybe we could shrink them and put them in belt pouches. You never know when you might need a quick getaway vehicle."

Hermione opened her mouth to voice her dislike of flying, and then changed her mind. "Good idea. What sort of brooms?"

"Oakshaft 93s. They're built for endurance, not speed," explained Luna. "Hoever, they can reach over 133 miles an hour and are capable of flying at up to four thousand feet-although I wouldn't recommend going that high."


	20. dust and ashes, and forgot

Author's Notes: I apologize for the shameless Sandman plug. Well… not really. I just love that quote and I've been planning on using it for months. That said, I picked out the names somewhere between the prologue and first chapter and I like them. I think they go well with the family. Just think about it. If you're confused, just ask and I'll explain.

* * *

Chapter 19

"Lulu, a thought," said Hermione

"Yes?" Luna looked up from her embroidery to where Hermione stood, working on the light gray overdress.

"I was thinking about the collar. Would it be too late to change it?" asked Hermione. "I didn't really think of it until I saw it on you, but I wasn't sure what was bothering me about the dress until now."

"Change it how?" asked Luna.

"Well, instead of doing a round collar, we do a much longer one with the same panels worked into it as with the skirt and sleeves."

"How?"

"Well, I'd leave the rounded part of the collar-I think that works, but instead of hemming it there, we could allow the fabric to continue outward in strips that would reach… say a couple inches past the hip, thereby allowing it to cover our vests. That, with the veils would allow us to be totally covered and have a better chance of moving unseen."

Luna tilted her head to the side, carefully considering Hermione's suggestion. "I think that would work." She carefully took some thread out from under Crookshanks' paws. "I do love your cat, but doesn't he generally spend his time in your dorm room?"

"He tried to eat Scabbers again today," explained Hermione. "I swear, I've never seen so single minded a cat before."

"He is a cat, and cats eat rats."

"I know. That's the only reason I've not punished him. But it was the second time this week alone."

"Do you suppose there's a reason he's trying to eat Scabbers?"

"What sort of reason would that be?" asked Hermione.

"It's not a magical rat," explained Luna.

"I repeat, so what?"

"It was Percy's pet before it was Ronald's." Luna paused, trying to figure out how to give voice to the uneasy feeling she had about the rat. Finally, she said, "Percy had the rat for several years before he gave it to Ronald."

Hermione froze. Luna watched as the wheels began to turn in her mind. "Normal rats don't live that long." Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe it's some sort of Squib rat or perhaps all the magic in the Burrow and Hogwarts is what's kept him alive so long."

"I suppose," said Luna, not at all reassured. She and her sister shared an unsettled look as the continued on with their tasks.

* * *

"Hey, uh…" said Harry.

"Yes?" said Luna as she looked up from her meal.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Not a meal passed where Luna did not eat with Hermione, Harry, and Ron. Though Harry did not consider Luna to be as close a friend as Hermione and Ron, he certainly did consider her a friend. There was just something about the eccentric blonde which both amused and confused him.

"Are you planning something for Malfoy?" asked Harry.

Ron straightened up, a worrying gleam in his eye. "A prank?"

"I'm assuming you mean jr., not sr." said Hermione.

Luna tilted her head to the side. "Well, we did want to prank him for what he's doing to Buckbeak."

"You know about that?" said Ron.

Both Harry and Hermione gave the boy amazed looks. They'd spoken about the subject numerous times in front of Luna, though this was the first time she'd added to the discussion on Malfoy, or even Buckbeak.

"Yes."

"Wait, you two prank together?" said Harry.

Both girls nodded and Luna said, "She's the Fred to my George."

He blinked at that comparison, more than slightly disturbed and then shook his head. He got a headache just thinking about it. "Never mind. So, do you two want to do something to Malfoy?"

"Do you want to see our list of ideas?" asked Hermione. "We were thinking something along the lines of poetic justice, although just a good dose of embarasment mixed with justice would do."

"I like the sound of that," said Harry.

* * *

Hermione gasped as she woke and then started to shake. She angrily brushed away a tear.

She'd held out hope that the dreams would fade. That after a while, when the memory was not quite so fresh, she'd be able to get a good night of sleep. But instead, the dreams were only getting worse.

Hermione cuddled Crookshanks to her chest, wallowing in the sound of his purring. She could not go on like this. Catching a couple hours of sleep here and a nap there was just not working.

Maybe she should talk to somebody about this. Hermione immediately dismissed the thought. She had not protected Luna from this only to tell her about what she could have been subjected to. She had no desire to talk to Madam Pince. At least not about this. And any other adult she talked to might notify the Aurors and she'd be stuck without her memories again.

After a moment, she pulled out a sheet of parchment, ink, and her quill. If she could not talk about it, she would write about it.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't mind?" said Hermione.

"No. Go ahead."

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," said Hermione as she taped the parchment with her wand.

She watched with amazement as the parchment began to fill with lines, making a map. She noted with satisfaction, the absence of the floor she and Luna and the twins had taken over for their own. It seemed that their wards had held up, even against this.

"So which secret passages out of the castle does Filch know about?"

"These four," explained Harry as he pointed. "And that one is a dead end-there was a cave in, I think."

"So how do you get out through this one?"

Harry quickly explained the password and that it opened into the cellar of Honeydukes.

"We don't have all night," said Ron impatiently. "Are we going to prank Malfoy or not?"

"Sorry," said Hermione, somewhat chagrinned.

It was the first week of January and the students had returned several days before. The sight of Malfoy still wearing his sling had chosen their prank for them.

It was at that point that Luna, the last member of their party skipped out of the Ravenclaw Common Room. Hermione absently noted the blue and orange "psychedelic" scarf tied about Luna's waist. She'd wondered where that had run off to.

* * *

"I can't get no satisfaction!"

"Twenty points from Slytherin!" snapped Professor McGonagal. "And detention."

Hermione snickered as Draco glared at the woman. Only ten minutes into the pranks and already he'd managed to get himself into quite a bit of trouble. As he continued to speak, she shook her head sadly. He was only digging himself deeper.

Luna and Hermione had provided the potion, Ron and Harry the map and the idea. The potion in combination with a charm Luna had thought up caused a person to speak only in song lyrics. Muggle song lyrics. It was somewhat harmless, but incredibly embarrassing, particularly for a blood supremacist.

Luckily for Draco the potion merely caused him to say a line from a song which had a similar meaning to whatever he was trying to say. Unluckily, whenever he spoke, he was forced to sing, with the music from said song playing in the background. It was like being in a really bad musical, decided Hermione.

Her eyes lit up at the idea it gave her. She would need to speak to Luna and the twins about this.

She winced as Millicent slapped him. For a moment, Hermione considered trying to find out what he had said. But she quickly put a stop to that thought.

* * *

"So how are we getting to Aberdeen anyway?" Hermione paused. "I mean, we have a way out of the castle, but then what? Are we going to take the floo out of the Hog's Head?"

Luna shook her head. "Aberforth Dumbledore, Professor Dumbledore's younger brother works there. He could rat us out."

"Then where?"

"Honeyduke's probably has a fireplace," said Luna. "We could floo from there or maybe we could create a portkey."

"Wait-that's a good idea," said Hermione.

"Creating a portkey? I was joking. Portkey's are very illegal."

"They can't do anything to us unless they catch us," pointed out Hermione. "Unless you'd like to try to figure out how to apparate."

"Apparation is the only form of Briton magic the Wizarding still use today," Luna pointed out.

"So, do we figure out how to do this on our own, or do we go to Madam Pince?" asked Hermione. "Can we even think of a believable reason for her to teach us apparition years before we're old enough to get licensed?"

Luna flopped down on the couch, embroidery in hand. "I can think of one very obvious reason."

"So can I," Hermione said after a moment. "After all, we'll be spending the summer in an unfamiliar country."

"One that's full of superheroes and villains. What are we to do if aliens invade or if we get caught in a hostage situation?"

"Shouldn't we be able to get ourselves out safely?" said Hermione, continuing the thought. "I suppose we should talk to her tomorrow morning."

* * *

"You want me to what?" said Irma, watching the girls closely.

"Teach us to apparate," explained Hermione. "We're worried about this summer."

"Particularly considering how dangerous the United States can be," Luna added. "And we would feel safer if we had a way to remove ourselves from these dangerous situations."

"Not to mention that though we have moved on to magic with movement, apparition would surely qualify under wordless, motionless magic. Without learning apparition, it feels unfinished. Like we didn't learn everything we should have."

Irma opened her mouth to protest and then reconsidered. The girls did have a point, although they were obviously trying to manipulate her into teaching them something they weren't technically supposed to learn until they were sixteen or seventeen.

She herself had learned how to apparate when she was ten years old. Hermione was fourteen and Luna twelve. By her standards, they were more than old for learning how to do so. Not to mention that their rather manipulative arguments had brought up several good points.

Irma gave the girls a look which made it quite clear that she knew she was being manipulated before announcing, "You do bring up several good points. Can you two come tomorrow morning?"

Hermione nodded as Luna said, "Yes."

"Good. We'll be flooing someplace where we can practice apparition without interruption."

* * *

"What shall we call ourselves?" said Luna as she carefully buttoned the vest over the rest of the uniform, moving the collar and strips of fabric out of the way.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione as she happily adjusted the laces of the vest, located in the back and on either side in the front before beginning to pin the leather.

"It's just… we can't call each other Erma and Lulu when we're in uniform. It would defeat the purpose of wearing costumes entirely."

"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Hermione. "Well, we already have our costumes all designed, so I suppose the code names should go with the costumes."

"Hmm," said Luna as she smoothed down the vest and then conjured a floor length mirror.

She turned from side to side and then said, "Could you hand me my mask and veil and gloves?"

Once Luna was fully outfitted, with the exception of the many pouched belt, she turned this way and that. The vest covered her shoulders and had a high neckline which hugged her throat comfortably. The vest then fell to roughly four inches past her hips, with a slit on either side to allow for freedom of movement. It buttoned in the front with wooden toggles which matched the buckle of her not yet completed belt.

She looked good, decided Luna.

The overdress almost made her look like she was covered in rags. Or perhaps ribbons would have been a better term. The dusty brown and pale, cool gray worked well together, Luna decided.

She adjusted the veil so that the middle of it's length was underneath her chin, then placed either side so that it lay over her head, crossing in the middle and falling behind her shoulders in delicate folds. Luna then secured it with a band of cool gray and several pins made precisely for this purpose.

"Dust," announced Luna.

"Huh?"

"My codename is Dust," she said as examined how she began to fade into her surroundings. And then she began to hum the opening bars of "Dust in the Wind" by Kansas.

Hermione snorted and shook her head. "Dust it is then."

"What about you?" asked Luna.

"I don't know," said Hermione as she trailed her fingers over her costume, identical in design to Luna's.

Hermione looked out the window at the sky which was changing colors as the sun set. And then she began to speak, almost as if in a trance. "'Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.'"1

"Erma?"

"You know, I don't remember where I heard that or read that," she explained. "But for some reason, I can't forget the words either." She shrugged and smiled somewhat unhappily. "There's a truth to it that just won't leave me."

"It's… I like it," said Luna.

"So do I."

"Why don't you call yourself Ashes?"

"What?"

"Think about it," said Luna. "It works for both of us. 'When mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.' Don't tell me that's not about us. Maybe the words weren't meant to be about us, but they fit us now."

Hermione gave her a watery smile and Luna was forced to wonder what her sister would not, could not tell her. "Ash. Not Ashes, Ash."

* * *

1) Dream, in Sandman # 19: "A Midsummer Night's Dream"


	21. Dormancy

Author's Notes: Before anybody criticizes my Latin, I never actually intended it to be proper Latin. It is instead a strange, Wizarding perversion of Latin, like so many of their spells and potions.

* * *

Chapter 20

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace and examined her surroundings. She seemed to be in some sort of wooden cabin with neither magical nor non-magical comforts. She brushed the soot off her robes and pulled the hood of her cloak down.

A moment later she was joined by Luna, who happily bounced over as she brushed herself off. There was a flare of green light as Irma stepped through the fire as well.

"Where are we?" asked Hermione.

"My cousin's hunting cabin," explained Irma. "He gave us permission to use his land to practice apparition and any other spells we may study for which we need to be outside or more space than we have in my office."

"Ah," said Hermione.

"Come along," said Irma. "We'll be practicing outside. The last thing we need is to accidentally damage something or for you to splinch yourselves around a chair."

Irma led the two out of the cabin. Hermione shivered once before she pushed down her hood and wrapped her scarf around her head and hat. She then pulled her hood back up. It was better not to have any spells-even warming charms-on ones self when learning a new form of magic, something Hermione had learned the hard was several months before.

The area was beautiful, Hermione admitted to herself. There was a large, iced over lake, surrounded on all sides with an old, thick forest. Next to the cabin was a small clearing which seemed to lead to a road. Though the snow was a foot and a half deep, Hermione could still tell where the road was because of the long even space between trees and bushes which curved out of view.

Irma motioned with her hand, clearing two perfect circles of snow, down to the yellow grass. "When I attended Salem, they taught students to apparate in their sixth and seventh years. The instructor told us all one needed was destination, determination, and deliberation. She had it right on some aspects, but it was obvious she'd never studied witchcraft. Luna, if you were to apparate, how would you do so?"

"I would decide where I wanted to apparate to. Then, I would imagine myself standing there, whole. Finally, I would will myself there, using some of my magic, keeping in mind that I wanted all my body parts and clothing to remain where they are supposed to be."

"Hermione, how would you apparate?"

"I would decide where I wanted to be and will myself-my entire self there." Hermione paused. "Apparition seems to be more instinctual than intellectual. With that in mind, I would let my body and my magic take charge-to an extent."

"Hermione is right. Apparition is instinctual. It's one of the most common forms of childhood accidental magic," explained Irma. "Splinching occurs most often when apparition is over thought. That said, loosing concentration can also cause splinching. Now, Hermione, I want you to try to apparate in the manner you described to the circle on the right. Luna, try to apparate into the circle on the left."

Hermione quickly did as ordered. She focused on the circle, on the feeling of being pulled through a straw, on wanting to be in that circle. And then she began to will herself into the circle, allowing the minimum of magic to do this. For a moment, she felt herself being squeezed and her vision waver. That moment quickly passed.

"Good Hermione," said Irma. "You almost had it. Allow a bit more magic this time. Luna, don't over think this. Try again. "

She nodded and did as instructed. She almost lost her concentration when she felt herself being pulled through what felt like a straw, but managed to regain control. Hermione blinked at the change in view.

She'd done it! She had apparated!

"Good job, Hermione. Now, apparate back to your starting position."

* * *

"That's going to leave a mark," said Luna.

"Oh shut up," said Hermione, as she disinfected the cut.

Two hours into the lesson, Hermione had landed wrong and fell. At the time she hadn't noticed, but once they were back at Hogwarts, the pain had begun to set in. Luna had helped Hermione limp back to their tower rooms, where Hermione had pulled up her skirts to find her left knee all but bereft of skin. By that point the blood had slowed, beginning to congeal into a scab.

"Just give me some gauze," continued Hermione, her bed mood showing through.

Luna handed her the gauze, which Hermione placed upon her knee and then a roll of bandages. Hermione carefully wrapped the bandages around her knee, lower thigh and upper calf, to ensure that the bandage stayed in place before tying it off.

"So now we know how to apparate," said Luna. "What potions are you going to make?"

"Veritas Solution. It's less powerful than Veritaserum, but just as effective. Not to mention that Veritas Solution leaves the… victim aware enough to actually answer questions beyond yes or no, unlike Veritaserum. I've ordered the rarer ingredients for Polyjuice, they should be here next week. Uh… and I'm looking into sleep potions, trying to find something which would work for our purposes. But I haven't gotten very far yet. What about you?"

"I've been putting together first aid kits we can fit into our belts, including healing potions," explained Luna. "Should we ask the twins about some of their ideas? I mean, we won't tell them anything, but they might have some good ideas."

* * *

Hermione let out a yawn as she went through the book before her. It was amazing just who they let third years take out. Sleep and Potions by Melanie Drake was one of the most advanced texts on sleep potions in the library. Technically, it was a medical text meant for student Healers.

Absentmindedly, Hermione wrote down the name and edition on a growing list of books she intended to buy or had already ordered for her own use. Included in the list were Moste Potente Potions and a number of medical, potion, and charms texts which she had found to be particularly useful.

At least now she had time to devote to potions research. The belts and pouches had been finished the day before. The wand holsters had been completed the previous week. All that was left was for Luna to finish her part of the project, namely the embroidery.

She pet Crookshanks with her right hand as she took notes with her left. Most sleep potions, it seemed, were meant to remain in liquid form. From what she could see, turning them into some for of gas would be incredibly difficult. For a moment, she considered putting a potion in a perfume bottle and spritzing it at whomever she wanted to knock out. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at that ridiculous thought.

Her eyes narrowed as she read a passage on potions meant to make dreams more vivid.

"A variant of the Sands of Sleep, Dormita Sand is noted for its ability cause the most vivid of dreams in those who are suffering from sleep disorders such as insomnia. This potion is not recommended for those suffering Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as it…"

Hermione put a book marker there before turning to the index. The Sands of Sleep sounded promising. Upon realizing that the potion was not in the book, Hermione let out a string of curses, before writing down the title. She'd look for it later in the library.

Several potions later, Hermione stopped short. She'd never heard of Dreamless Sleep before. As she read, a selfish part of Hermione reared its head. A part of her that was tired of sleeping so short an amount of time each night. A part of her that never wanted to go through one of those nightmares again.

She seized upon the part of the text which mentioned that it would allow for her to sleep without dreaming. The part which mentioned that it was useful in aiding and speeding up recuperation. She skimmed the text for warnings, not paying much attention at all.

Not allowing herself to rethink what she was about to do, Hermione went to her trunk and pulled out her potion ingredients and her cauldron. She gathered the needed ingredients and copied the recipe on a spare piece of parchment. If she started now, the potion would be finished in time for her to go to sleep the next evening.

* * *

Luna blinked at the sight before her. For the first time since the Dementor attacks, her sister seemed to be well rested. She smiled and turned back to her breakfast, happy for this change. It seemed that the nightmares had finally begun to fade.

"So, what are we going to do today?" asked Luna.

"What we do every day, Pinky," said Hermione, happily.

"Huh?" said Ron as Luna gave her sister a confused look.

"We're going to take over the world," said Harry.

"We are?" said Ron.

Hermione and Harry shared a look before shaking their heads. Maybe it was a recent Muggle reference. It was the only think Luna could think of.

* * *

"When are we doing this?" asked Luna. "After the Quidditch game?"

"That was yesterday," pointed out Hermione, referencing the Slytherin-Ravenclaw game of the morning before. "Or do you mean the Gryffindor-Slytherin game on the fifth?"

"That's the one."

Hermione shook her head. "There's either going to be a huge party which I have to be at, or I'm going to spend the night comforting the boys. Not to mention that we have lessons the next morning. We need to be awake for that. What about Friday the fourth? The night before the game. I don't think anybody would be searching for me then and we can be half asleep for the game-nobody would notice."

Luna nodded her agreement. "I think that would work. How are you coming on the potions?"

"Veritas Solution is complete-there are about sixteen doses per potion. Polyjuice should be done in three weeks-just in time for the fourth. I'm looking for a good sleep potion. I found a reference to something called the Sands of Sleep, but I haven't been able to find a decent description or recipe anywhere. I don't even know if I'm on the wrong track."

"I've heard of the Sands of Sleep. They were inspired by the story about the Sandman putting sand in people's eyes to make them sleep. Or maybe they were the sands that the Sandman used. The Sandman could just be a historical figure which Beedle the Bards tales are based off of."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the Deathly Hallows?" asked Luna, a mischievous look upon her face.

* * *

"What's that?" asked Harry.

Hermione looked up to see an owl, heavily burdened with a package flying her way. "A book I ordered. I think."

Hermione quickly cleared some space for the bird to land. She took the package from the owl and pushed a glass of water in front of the tired creature's beak. The owl gratefully drank the water and accepted the offered bacon.

Hermione noted the return address upon the package. She'd ordered the books through a second hand book store, which specialized in finding out of print and older editions of books. Hermione put the package in her pack, deciding to open it in the tower rooms, rather than someplace where her slightly questionable books could be seen.

* * *

"Found it!"

Luna looked up from the pouch she was embroidering for added strength and space. "Found what?"

"The Sands of Sleep. It's in Moste Potente Potions-one of the books I received this morning," explained Hermione. "Listed to this: 'The Sands of Sleep is a sleep potion in sand form. To use, make contact between the Sands and the intended target. Depending upon exposure, a human may be unconscious for ten minutes to ten days.'"

"How do you expose somebody to the Sands?" asked Luna.

"It suggests placing it on furniture or in food," said Hermione. "But it seems that so long as it gets into the body in some way, it will work. From the looks of it, the Sands are powerful enough to work by absorbed through a person's skin."

Luna nodded her understanding. "We'll figure out how to use it once it's made." She paused. "Can you make it?"

"It looks a bit difficult. I think I'll have to give it my undivided attention, but I can manage. The potion should only take four hours to make. And look at this-I have almost all these ingredients in my kitchen at home. I think we may have to beg the House Elves for cooking spices."

"I'm sure they'll give it to us if we ask nicely," shrugged Luna.

"I suppose." Hermione absentmindedly put something in the cauldron containing the half finished Polyjuice potion. "Do you want to do it or should I?"

* * *

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione as she helped Irma reshelf books.

"They moved up Buckbeak's hearing to the eleventh of February," explained Irma. "I've found only two cases where they've allowed the animal to live. I need more time to research."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Do you need help?"

Irma shook her head. "You concentrate on your studies. I'll deal with this."

* * *

Hermione carefully mixed the potion clockwise as she noted the change of texture. At the fourth stir, she added ground lacewing flies. She watched through her goggles with amazement as the liquid quickly dried, turning into an almost sand like substance.

She'd used lacewing flies before, but never just their bodies. Generally, only their wings were used in potions. Hermione distinctly remembered the warning to never use the body of a lacewing fly in a potion in her texts, though the reasoning had never been explained.

At the time when she'd been preparing the potion ingredients, Hermione had been unsure the purpose of the lacewing fly bodies. Not only was it one of two ingredients not commonly found in a kitchen, but it was also never used in potions-to her knowledge. However, it seemed to simultaneously imbue some sort of magic to the potion and dry it up into the sand like substance.

Once the liquid had been completely absorbed, Hermione placed the potion into a beaker and sealed it. Eyes narrowed, Hermione carefully cleaned the cauldron and any surface the sand might have ended up on. The last thing she wanted was to expose herself or Luna.

That done, she examined the sand through the glass. How were they to administer it?

Hermione let out a mental sigh. She and Luna could figure that out later.


	22. Preparations Part 1

Author's Notes: I don't know if Sandy ever attended a university or not. I don't think the comics ever mentioned it-beyond Wesley excusing his sidekick's disappearance by saying he was attending university. However, for the sake of this story, he became a sand monster in the middle of his second semester of Freshman year.

Secondly, for those of you who have comments on Lavender's style of putting on make up. First of all, she'd thirteen and teenagers often cake on too much make up. Secondly, this is taking place from Hermione's point of view, and Hermione has never worn make up before.

Thirdly, the next chapter is one I'm pretty sure you've been waiting for for a while. Unfortunately, this chapter was longer than anticipated, so I didn't get to include any scenes from next chapter as well.

* * *

Chapter 21

Sandy resisted the urge to lash out-barely. At least this time he wouldn't have to come up with an excuse why his dorm room had a fist sized hole in one of the walls. Again.

He'd managed to get himself back into Columbia, although that had taken some explanation. As it was, he was something of a curiosity on campus, although his excuse of being thrown several decades forward in time because he'd accidentally been caught in the crossfire between the Justice Society of America and some supervillain had not been as unusual as he'd thought it be. Then again, it might have been the backing by Wildcat and Sentinel which caused admissions to believe his-decidedly false-excuse.

When it had become apparent that nobody remembered Erma and Lulu, Sandy had considered that maybe, just maybe, being in not-quite-suspended animation had affected him. That maybe he'd imagined the girls.

That idea had been shot down when he'd gone searching through the attic of the brownstone, searching for his old school records. Instead, he'd found a pair of birth certificates, school records, and photo albums, all about Hermione and Luna Belmont.

If not for the fact that the confusion in Wesley's eyes had been real, Sandy would have confronted the man then. But it had been obvious from the start that Wesley really didn't remember Erma or Lulu.

Left with no other choice, Sandy had gone to speak to Dian. But like Wesley, she didn't remember that Erma and Lulu had ever existed. How could a woman forget the children she'd given birth to? The children she'd raised for twelve years?

He had a sinking feeling that something more was going on. This wasn't a simple murder or kidnapping-not that murder and kidnapping had ever been simple-but something more. It was like Erma and Lulu had been erased from memory.

The girls had attended one of the most exclusive all girls schools in the country. From the school records, Sandy had managed to get something of an idea of their last known days. On the eighteenth of June, shortly after they'd finished finals, Erma and Lulu had left the school with permission from Dian to visit someone. Unfortunately, Sandy had not been able to find out who this someone was. They'd missed check-in on the twentieth and the school had called Dian and Wesley.

A day later, it was like nothing had ever happened. Like Erma and Lulu had never existed.

It was this dead end which was causing Sandy so much trouble. Surely there must be further records, and yet there was not. He had no doubt there was foul play of some sort involved. The only question was; what sort of foul play?

* * *

Concentrating so hard, all she saw was the object before her, Hermione moved her hands carefully. This exercise was about control and fluidity of motion. Beside her, Luna did the same.

Running through her hands and over her fingers was roughly a cup of water. The idea was to keep it moving, keep it under control, and most importantly, ensure that all the drops of water remained in the air.

It was actually kind of fun, but very exhausting. Particularly since Irma had decreed that they had to make the water "dance" in time with the music coming from the radio. Hermione winced as a Weird Sisters song came on. That was it.

With an extra burst of concentration and inspiration, two figures of water formed. A female in a swirling dress and a man with a hat. The two spun around, dancing this way and that, using moves generally seen only in movies about the 1940s and Wizarding parties and dance halls.

Luna grinned at her and motioned. A second later, Hermione combined her two figures into a taller woman as Luna created a man. The two then began to swing their way across the dance floor consisting of Irma's desk.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," said Irma, her tone making it clear she was pleased. "Nice work girls. That's enough for today."

* * *

Hermione smiled brightly when Professor Snape handed back the essays. She despised the man, but she couldn't show these feelings if she were to keep up appearances. Of course, she had already talked to Fred and George about possible pranks to pull on him, though they were waiting until after the Quidditch season ended-just in case.

She blinked at the sight before her. Surely this must be a mistake. Professor Snape might dislike her in return, but he always gave her Acceptables, which was the highest grade a Gryffindor friend of Harry Potter could receive in the class.

But the grade upon her essay was a Poor. Allowing Ron and Harry to guide her, Hermione read over Professor Snape's comments, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. She stared in horror as she noted the occasional grammatical mistake, which Snape had punished mercilessly. But worst of all was the paragraph where she'd written the same sentence twice.

How had this happened?

* * *

Hermione tilted her head to the side as she considered the essay before her. It was the third time she'd read through it to check for mistakes.

Obviously, the potions essay and the transfiguration test had been the result of all the stress in her life. That just meant that she had to spend a bit more time than originally planned going over her schoolwork to ensure that it was written properly.

Part of her-a rebellious part of her-pointed out that she had not made such mistakes before. That it was only with the advent of her Dreamless Sleep usage that she had begun to make sloppy mistakes.

McGonagal had asked her if her schedule was too hectic when giving back a test, several days before. Though she'd answered everything correctly, her grammar had been a bit off and McGonagal had been concerned by how little Hermione had written. Although Hermione knew she'd written much more than her fellow students.

* * *

Hermione let out a yawn as she stumbled into the bathroom she shared with Lavender and Parvati. One glance at her wrist watch showed that it was nearly six. She winced at that. She was already well behind schedule.

After a quick shower, Hermione went to brush her teeth and comb the mess of curls she called her hair. For lack of anything better to do with the mid-thigh length-mid-thigh length?! She obviously needed a trim-hair, she quickly began to tie it into a braid, intending to pin it about her head.

"Morning Hermione," said Lavender as she put one final pin into her complicated, braided style.

"Good morning Lavender," said Hermione.

"Sleep in?"

Hermione nodded, reaching for another pin. "I didn't hear my alarm."

Lavender pulled out her make-up bag. She covered her face with some sort of liquid the same color as her skin and began to blend it in. She then opened a flat, circular item with a powder puff in side of it.

Hermione tied off her braid, watching as Lavender held the powder puff in place, flipping the entire thing over quickly before righting it. She then removed the powder puff and began brush it-or was that pat it?-over her face. As she did this, Hermione looked at the circular object, noting that it was covered in a sort of opaque plastic with holes in it like a salt shaker. Underneath these holes in a compartment was loose, skin toned powder.

"What is that?" asked Hermione, mind racing.

"A compact," said Lavender.

Hermione began to pin her hair up, trying to act nonchalant. "How does it work?"

* * *

"What are you doing?"

Hermione looked up to see her sister. "Research."

Luna tilted her head to the side obviously confused. "What sort of research?"

"Delivery methods for the Sands," explained Hermione.

Luna took a quick step back. "Is that in those?"

"No, no. I wouldn't expose it to air like that. You know the Sands of Sleep begin to dissolve after half an hour," said Hermione. "Actually, I charmed the makeup that came with them to light up when I say 'Blue.'"

The various containers before them lit up as the powder within them began to glow blue. This effect faded after a full minute.

"How does this work?" asked Luna as she sat down next to Hermione.

"Well, I have loose powder containers, pressed powder containers, and a couple other designs I'm experimenting with-although now Lavender and Parvati think I've become obsessed with getting a date with Oliver Wood."

"What?"

Hermione shrugged. "I had to tell them something, and he's graduating this year anyway."

"So, where do we start?"

"I was going to use the manikin as a test dummy-we can clean after each test." Hermione paused, moving the manikin with magic. "What we want is the most controlled spread of powder possible."

* * *

"You're good for nothing beast killed Scabbers!"

"What?" said Hermione as she looked up from the book on healing spells she'd been reading.

"Scabbers is dead!" said Ron, his face slightly tear stained. "I found what was left of him."

"Oh God," said Hermione. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough! That beast still killed my pet!"

"Ron, enough," snapped Harry. "Yelling at Hermione won't bring Scabbers back!"

Ron gaped at the two of them before rounding on Harry. "So you're taking her side then?!"

"It's not about sides," protested Harry as Ron stomped back up to the boy's dorm.

As Harry stood to go after Ron, Hermione put a hand upon his arm. "Let me handle this," she said gently.

Hermione stood, closing her book and putting it down before Harry. She quietly made her way up the stairs to the Third Year boy's room. She slowly pushed the door open and walked past Dean and Seamus, ignoring their alarmed looks.

"Ron?" Hermione said quietly.

"Come to tell me Scabbers was old and sick anyway?" said Ron, the pain clear in his voice.

"No, I haven't." Hermione sat down next to Ron on the four poster bed.

"Your cat killed him."

"I know. I can never apologize enough for that. I should have kept a closer eye on him."

Ron turned to her. "Yeah, you should have!"

"Well, come on, there's only one thing for this."

"Huh?"

Hermione waved her wand and created a wood, rat sized box. "Let's find a nice place to bury him and have a funeral."

"I-buh," said Ron. He blinked at her stupidly for several moments, before nodding. "There-there's some bone and blood we can put into the box."

Hermione nodded her understanding and carefully gathered the pieces of bone. With her wand, she cut the piece of cloth stained with blood away from the sheet and placed it atop the bones in the box.

Silently, the two made their way back into the Common Room. At the foot of the stairs, Hermione called out, "Come along, Harry."

"What's going on?" he asked as he walked toward the duo.

"We're giving Scabbers a funeral," explained Ron.

* * *

Carefully, Hermione went through the checklist, making sure everything she and Luna wanted was one it. She handed the list for Luna to double check as well. There were only four hours left until they intended to leave and this was their last chance to make sure they had everything.

"Erma, why don't you gather, I read?"

Hermione nodded her agreement.

"One broom," said Luna.

Hermione carefully pulled the shrunken brooms out of the pile of supplies before putting one in each of the belts, placing it in the third pouch on the left side in each.

"Check."

"Six doses Veritas solution."

Hermione pulled out twelve of the clear pills. For lack of any better way to transport the doses, Hermione and Luna had placed them into clear, dissolvable pill capsules. She put six pills in each belt. "Check."

"Three doses Polyjuice."

These were in plastic containers with screwed on tops. "Check."

"Sands of Sleep-three loose powder and one pressed powder compact. Four bag bombs."

"Check."

"Four rolls of bandages."

"Check."

"Two doses Skele-gro."

"Check."

"Two containers disinfectant."

"Check."

"Five doses Pepper-Up."

"Check."

"Needle and spool of dissolvable thread, in disinfected container."

"Check." One could never be too careful.

"Camera"

"Check."

"Rope-one hundred feet."

"Check"

"Memory Potion in perfume container."

"Check." The potion would make a person forget the past ten minutes of time.

"Gauze."

"Check."

"Emergency portkey."

"Check."

"Two bags of floo powder."

"Check."

"Vulna potion-two vials."

"Check." The potion was designed to seal cuts and large wounds.

"Map of Aberdeen."

"Check."

"We're really going to do this, aren't we, Erma?"

"Yeah, we are," said Hermione, doubt filling her momentarily. She quickly brushed the emotion aside. "Let's get suited up and double check the magic on the costumes."


	23. Inquest

Author's Note: Because I have been asked, I'm going to go over the costumes one last time.

Secondly, Hermione and Luna are perhaps a bit harsh in this chapter. However, one should keep in mind what the Sandman was like. Believe me, Sandman Mystery Theater was an interesting, and at times morally ambiguous comic. I'm ignoring how Wesley Dodds was originally written (with the exception of the inclusion of Sandy Hawkins) because he was an idiot. With bad fashion sense (after they made him where spandex). Really, really, really, really bad fashion sense. Who in their right mind mixes purple and yellow like that?

Thirdly, some very disturbing things are hinted at in this chapter. Then again, I've been hinting at it for the past month or so anyway.

* * *

Chapter 22

Hermione took extra care pinning her hair up-the last thing she wanted or needed was for it to fall out of its pins this evening. Once that was done, she carefully removed her clothing so as to not disturb her hair and began to dress.

She traded her normal bra for a rarely used sports bra-Gwendolyn Granger was of the opinion that every girl, no matter how athletic or sedentary needed a sports bra. Then she pulled on her dark gray pantalettes, the hem covered not in lace, but in embroidery. The pantalettes were a bit on the long side, ending halfway down her calf. Over this she put on her loose sleeveless dark gray under shirt with matching embroidery which ended only a couple inches above her knees. Finally, she pulled on the stockings Luna had knitted and embroidered. The stockings were thick and soft. They came up to just over the knee before they were tied into place.

Hermione slipped on her knee high dark gray boots and tied the laces, straightening her pantalettes so that they covered half the boots. She then pulled on her wand holster, attaching it to the underside of her left forearm. She slipped the wand into place before continuing. She pulled her dark gray chemise on over it, and then tightened the various laces. The chemise was not-quite-full skirted, ankle length and tight sleeved, so as not to impede movement.

The dark gray, almost black underdress came next. She quickly put it on, buttoned the cuffs and tightened appropriate laces. It was covered in strategically placed light gray embroidery which was almost dizzying when one looked too closely. She put on her matching mask, buttoning the opening placed at the back of her neck closed. Hermione then slipped on the light gray overdress which seemed, at times, to be made of ribbons over it. Once everything was fastened, Hermione put on her vest, moving the collar of the overdress out from underneath it before buttoning it. After fastening the belt about her waist, Hermione slipped on the scarf. She placed the middle atop her head then tossed the ends of the opposite shoulders so that they trailed down her back. Hermione paused, considering how long the ends were-they reached farther than her unbound hair-then tied the ends together into a loose bow in the back of her head.

Gloves in hand, Hermione stepped out from behind the screen. "Ok, you're turn."

Luna nodded and went behind the screen as Hermione considered how odd her voice sounded. One of the things embroidered into the mask was something which changed her voice. It made her sound older, less like a teenager. The magic gave her voice a... She paused considering.

"Barbara Streisand?" said Hermione.

"You noticed," said Luna, her voice happy. "I just love her voice. Mummy was a huge fan-she had all of her old records"

"Nice. You know, she's made a bunch of songs since the invention of cassettes," said Hermione, fascinated by the way her voice sounded. "What did you do for yourself?"

"I know." And suddenly Luna's voice was different. "Judy Garland."

"Mom used to take us to see the Wizard of Oz whenever it was being shown in a theater," said Hermione. "You dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West and I as the Wicked Witch of the East the Halloween before-before we came here."

Hermione paused, shaking her head. How had she known that? She let out a sigh, knowing that she would not find an answer to that question.

"Ready?" said Luna as she stepped out from behind the screen.

Hermione nodded, pulling on the dark gray gloves. "This way. Harry showed me a secret passage into Hogsmeade."

Hermione led Luna through Hogwarts silently, moving from shadow to shadow. A couple hallways from their destination, Hermione felt Luna's hand upon her arm. The two slipped farther into a dark out cove, allowing their uniforms to make them fade into the shadows until they were as if part of the wall.

A moment later Professor Flitwick came into view. It seemed he was patrolling that evening. Or, at least one of the professors patrolling that evening. He continued onward without stopping. Hermione breathed a mental sigh of relief as it became apparent that the man had not noticed their presence.

Once he was out of sight they continued onward. One of the magics put into the clothing and boots was one which made movement and footsteps silent. So long as they kept to the shadows, Hermione and Luna hoped to avoid the attention of the paintings and ghosts, who were quite obviously the eyes and ears of Professor Dumbledore.

Eventually, they came to the statue. Hermione tilted her head to the side, considering. "I think she's supposed to be Gunhilda of Gorsemoore." She shrugged and then tapped the statue and said the password Harry had given her.

The two quickly went into the passage, closing it behind them. After walking down a long staircase, they began to walk what felt like an endless passage.

"How long is this passage?" asked Luna.

Hermione shrugged. "All I know is that it leads to Honeyduke's cellar."

"Let's just get past the wards. We can apparate from there."

Hermione nodded her agreement. Soon enough they felt themselves cross the wards. It was, Hermione mused, amazing what magic users missed unless they were aware of how magic felt.

"Where should we apparate to?" asked Luna. "You're the only one who's ever been there before."

"All I saw was the cubical," pointed out Hermione. She pulled the map from a pouch and began to examine it. "Here-this looks like an alley about a block away. We apparate there and decide how to proceed then, Dust."

"Good idea." Luna disappeared with a pop.

Hermione folded up the map but kept it out. She had a feeling they would need it again. Imagining the location she wanted, Hermione apparated.

She gasped as she landed. Neither she nor Luna had ever willingly apparated so far before. A quick glance showed her Luna several feet away, leaning against a wall, catching her breath.

"Dust?" said Hermione.

"I'm fine, Ash. Just needed to rest for a moment."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "Tell me when you're ready to continue."

A minute passed before Luna straightened herself and nodded. "Ready."

"Ok, we're going to apparate to the top of that building so that we can get a better view," explained Hermione. "Muggles almost never look up."

Once on top of the building, the two were able to see Saint Lucinda's. The hospital actually seemed to be rather quiet for eleven on a Friday night. It was several stories tall-four or five, Hermione wasn't sure from the angle they were at-and took up an entire block. Admittedly it was a small block and more than half of it was a parking lot and garage, nevertheless, it was a large building.

"Well?" said Luna.

Hermione put the map away. "We apparate to the top of the building and make our way in from there. We use absolutely no Wizarding magic-witchcraft only. Wizarding magic could make essential machines stop working and we don't want that. We find a nurse and ask where the records are kept. Then we spritz them with Memory potion to make them forget. If possible, we find where Doctor Eileen MacDougal and Nurse Edith-they might know something, if they haven't been obliviated as well."

"Nurse Edith?"

"I don't know her surname," explained Hermione.

It was even easier to apparate to the roof of the hospital-although that was probably because it was their first apparition to a point within their line of sight that evening. There was an unlocked door which led to a staircase.

They went down to the top floor and considered what to do next. The hallways were quite bright. Too bright for their uniforms to make them fade completely. Obviously they would need to risk being seen.

Noticing a woman in bright scrubs, Hermione motioned for Luna to stay where she was. She took a deep breath, waited until the woman had passed the stairs and opened the door to the hallway. Before the woman had a chance to react, Hermione used her magic to gently pull the woman over to her. The last thing she wanted was for anybody to get hurt.

As the woman opened her mouth to scream, Hermione willed a silencing charm around the pair of them. Once the struggling woman was through the doorway, Hermione closed the door behind her. She released the spells upon the woman.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" demanded the woman as she looked at the pair, clearly frightened. Hermione winced at that, and then steeled herself.

"We merely wish to ask you some questions," explained Hermione.

"Where are records of past patients kept?" asked Luna.

The woman said something to the pair which made Hermione shake her head, amused. "Do you really think I haven't heard that before?"

"We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way," said Hermione. "And neither you nor I want to do this the hard way."

Hermione noticed Luna begin to play with fire out of the corner of her eye. She was doing a variant of the spell they had practiced weeks before, using fire instead of water. The woman seemed terrified by Luna's display of dancing fire.

"T-the ground floor," stuttered the woman, eyes wide. "The records are on the ground floor! Room G-14."

"Thanks you," said Hermione.

She pulled the perfume bottle out of a pouch and spritzed it in the woman's face before she had a chance to react. The pair were already two flights down by the time the woman opened her eyes again.

Finding G-14 was easier than Hermione had expected. More surprising, the woman had told the truth. Perhaps she had been more frightened of Luna than Hermione had thought.

"I'll stand guard," volunteered Luna. "While you search."

Hermione nodded her agreement. Once the hallway was empty, the two darted across the hall to G-14 from their hiding place in a supply closet. Compact in hand, Hermione opened the door labeled "Records." She shook it once, to get some of the same out of the compartment and then opened the door.

Before the woman sitting behind a desk had a chance to react, Hermione opened the compact as raised it to her lips, hidden behind her mask. She blew gently, infusing the breath which managed to get through the cloth with magic. As she had willed it to do, the breath picked up the Sands of Sleep freed from the compartment and blew them right into the woman's face. Hermione closed the compact, returning it to her belt as the woman slid from her chair, asleep.

Luna entered the room a moment later, closing the door behind them. She tilted her head at the woman. "How big was the dose?"

"About two to two and half hours," said Hermione as she began to examine the filing cabinets.

After a moment, she pulled open a drawer who's label looked promising. She allowed Luna to spritz the woman with Memory potion to ensure she would not remember the incident. She and Luna had picked this particular memory potion because it was particularly mild and safe for use on the injured, pregnant, and even small children.

Hermione closed the drawer and moved on to the next, still searching. She let out a string of curses when the drawer proved empty of her file as well. The third time she searched through a drawer, Luna glanced back from her position by the door.

"What are you searching under?"

"Jane Doe," said Hermione.

"Did you tell them your name?"

"Well, yes," said Hermione before mentally smacking herself in the head. "Of course. Thanks."

She moved on to another filing cabinet entirely. Five minutes later, she said, "Found it."

Hermione pulled out the file marked Hermione R. Belmont and sat down on the floor. She opened it, knowing that it was probably unwise to do so while still in the hospital.

And then she stared, hoping that it was all a figment of her imagination and knowing it was the truth. She looked at the paper unseeing, barely noticing when Luna stepped behind her.

"Why would they do a pelvic exam?" asked Luna, her voice betraying how worried she truly was.

"It's-it's not important," said Hermione, shrinking the file and placing it in an empty pouch.

"Ash, why would they do a pelvic exam?" demanded Luna.

"Drop it. Just drop it, ok?" said Hermione as she stood. "Let's go see if we can find where Dr. MacDougal and Nurse Edith are. I want to talk to them."

"Ash-"

"Please. I just-I can't right now, alright?"

"I-alright. Did you find Nurse Edith's surname?" asked Luna.

"She signed off on a couple things in the file as Edith White."

Luna nodded. "Let's get going then."

Hermione barely noticed the journey down the hall as they searched for an appropriate office. After Luna knocked out several women and one man in an office, Hermione spritzed them with Memory potion, leaving Luna to do the searching.

"Found it-addresses and work schedules for both," said Luna.

"Let's go," said Hermione. "Where are they?"

"Not tonight, Ash. You need to calm down-we both need to calm down and think of what to ask them," insisted Luna.

"But-"

"Come on, we're going back to school. We need to be in bed before anybody realizes we're missing."

"But-"

"But nothing," said Luna. "Now come on."

Hermione sighed and relented. A moment later, the two of them apparated back into the tunnel, just outside of the wards.


	24. Repercussions Part 2

Author's Notes: In this chapter, this is the first confrontation between Hermione and Luna. A word of warning, what I have hinted at for most of the story will be revealed-sort of.

Secondly, before anybody says anything, this story is not Hermione/Oliver. First of all, she's fourteen, that's far too you to find the person who want to spend the rest of your life with. And even if you did, it would involve more hard work than Hermione is willing to put in at this point in time.

* * *

Chapter 23

Hermione sat upon the window seat in her and Luna's tower rooms, reading her medical file. Dr. MacDougal had, it seemed, been telling her the truth. But not the whole truth.

While they were working on her other injuries in the ambulance, one of the ambulance technicians had noticed blood upon her thighs. It seemed Sr. MacDougal had given her the pelvic exam right before she had gone into surgery, in the presence of a Detectives Matthias and Maxwell from the Grampian Police. Aberdeen division, she assumed. It didn't say which unit they were from, but Hermione felt safe in assuming that they were from the Family Protection Unit.

This confirmation of the memories the Dementors had made her relive was almost more than she could take. Hermione had known that the Dementors could only make one experience real memories, yet she'd still held out hope that it was just her overactive, morbid imagination.

"Erma," said Luna, her voice hesitant.

Hermione closed the file and looked away. "Please don't ask me this."

"The men you killed-you killed them to protect me, didn't you," said Luna.

"Yes, I think so…"

"Did they-did they hurt you?"

She said nothing.

"Did one of them… force himself upon you?" asked Luna, her voice small.

"Do you really want the answer to that question?" Hermione demanded. She stood. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast."

"Erma!" protested Luna as Hermione swept from the room, ignoring her calls.

* * *

Hermione looked up as Luna sat down across from her at the Gryffindor table. For several long moments the girl said nothing to her, instead setting about fixing breakfast for herself. As it was still well before most were awake, the only other people the Gryffindor table were Percy and Oliver, who were arguing over something-though they were too far away to hear what.

"Do you have any more names for the people we should check?" asked Luna.

"Yes-two police detectives from the Grampian Police-Aberdeen City Division."

Luna nodded her understanding. "So, who are we to prank next?"

"I was going to wait until after Buckbeak's hearing," explained Hermione, relief clear in her voice. "But I was thinking of pranking each Quidditch team in turn-including Gryffindor. But not on days near their next game."

"Sounds like fun."

"Hermione," said a familiar male voice.

"Yes Oliver," said Hermione, looking up as she noted how close the Gryffindor Keeper was standing.

"Would you-that is… would you care to go to the after party with me this evening?"

Her eyes widened. She glanced at Luna, who gave her a helpless shrug and then back at the burly Seventh year. "I-uh… sure."

"Great-I'll see you after the game-by the locker rooms."

"See you then," said Hermione, watching with bemusement as Oliver returned to his seat next to Percy.

"What just happened?" she asked, once satisfied he was out of earshot.

"I do believe you should be more careful when revealing your 'crush' to Lavender and Parvati in the future," said Luna.

"You don't think… What am I saying?" said Hermione. "Of course they would."

"They were just trying to help you. Do you-do you want me to get you out of the date?" asked Luna. "I could."

"I…"Hermione looked down at her food thinking.

She was unsure whether or not she actually wanted to go out with Oliver. It was not that she actually had a crush on him, more that he was the first person to ever ask her out on a date. Admittedly, it seemed that he had only done so because of her false disclosure to Lavender and Parvati, but that was beside the point.

She was not afraid of him. None of his precious girlfriends had ever complained about how he had acted. Patricia, a fifth year Gryffindor was still good friends with Oliver and had even set him up with his next girlfriend.

Not to mention that Hermione was sure that she could take him in a fight. Although that might only be because of her willingness to fight dirty and use any and all weapons at her disposal. Not to mention that Oliver had surely noticed her friendship with Fred and George. The Weasley twins were notoriously protective of the female friends and acquaintances. They'd once made a boy who had broken Katie's heart beg for a transfer to another Wizarding school.

This was the first time she'd been asked out on a date. Was she really going to let the memory of what those men had done stop her from enjoying something which most girls dreamed of? No. She wasn't.

However, she decided, she might ask the Weasley twins to keep an eye on her and Oliver to ensure the Seventh year did nothing untoward. Just in case.

"I'll go on the date," Hermione announced.

* * *

Nervously, Hermione brushed out the skirts of her dress as she waited for Oliver to come out. As she had dressed for the Quidditch game that morning, she was decked out in Gryffindor colors, complete with a maroon bonnet over a creamy yellow coif-she'd changed the colors using witchcraft that morning.

"Hey Hermione," said Harry as he left the locker room.

"Hi Harry. Good game."

"Where's Ron?"

"Waiting in the Common Room."

"Then what are you…"

"I'm waiting for Oliver."

"What? Why?"

"Because we have a date," explained Oliver as he stepped out of the locker rooms. He held out a small bouquet of flowers made of glass. "These are for you."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled at him and accepted the flowers, examining them. "The spell work is amazing. Did you do this yourself?"

* * *

Hermione allowed him to spin her about on the dance floor, one more grateful that the Wizarding preferred jazz, classical, and folk music to any other. As it was, she was and Oliver were doing the jitterbug. A moment later they were joined by Fred and Alicia as they began a quadrille.

Gryffindor parties reminded Hermione more of country dances than anything else. Not that she would tell her fellow Gryffindors that. She wasn't quite sure how they would react. When the song was over, Hermione felt herself being pulled closer to Oliver. Momentarily confused, it took her a second to connect that the song was some form of ragtime. And then Oliver was leading her in a foxtrot.

"Having fun?" asked Oliver.

"Yeah, I am," said Hermione. "You played a very good game. I don't know how you blocked that quaffle. When Davies faked left I thought it would go through."

"I didna think I'd be able to block it either," admitted Oliver. "I thought you disliked Quidditch."

Hermione shook her head. "I like Quidditch well enough, but I prefer football and American football. Oh, and baseball of course. I love baseball."

"Really?" said Oliver, looking more than a bit surprised. He grinned at her. "What are your favorite teams?"

"Well, for football, it's Totten. Stonelake, the town I live in is next to Totten-that's in Hampshire, by the way-and Dad takes me to their home games all the time," explained Hermione. "For American football, I prefer college football to the NFL. I don't have a favorite team, but I like a couple of them. As for baseball… the New York Yankees. What about you?"

She had been a fan of the Brooklyn Dodgers. But now they were gone. They were in Los Angeles of all places. The New York Yankees had been the first team she could think of.

* * *

"Well?" said Lavender. "How did it go?"

Hermione repressed the urge to roll her eyes at the expected question. "Oliver asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him next weekend. What did you do?"

"Did you say yes?" asked Parvati.

"Yes, I did. But what did you two do?"

"We may have talked to Patricia," admitted Lavender. "And Patricia may have talked to Alicia." She paused, smirking. "And Alicia and Angelina may have mentioned that you like him to Oliver."

Hermione let out a low whistle. "Impressive." She'd forgotten the power of gossip. And then remembering that she had appearances to keep up, added, "Thanks."

"What are roommates for?" asked Parvati.

The date actually hadn't been that bad. The most Oliver had done was kiss her hand when wishing her good night and hold her a bit closer than he would a friend while they were dancing. Not to mention that they'd spent the evening talking about sports, academics and how different the Muggle world was from the Wizarding. Like her, he was a Muggle born.

* * *

Hermione yawned as she curled up in bed once more. She briefly considered taking a second dose of Dreamless sleep, but quickly dismissed the idea, knowing it would be an overdose.

Somehow, Sirius Black had managed to sneak in to Gryffindor Tower. Ron had awoken to the sight of Sirius standing above him, knife in hand. Unfortunately he'd not been caught.

How anybody could expect them to go back to sleep after this fiasco, Hermione didn't know. Not to mention that though Neville had been careless, she thought his punishment unfair. To do that to Neville was unconscionable. McGonagal and Dumbledore had handled the entire situation atrociously.

* * *

"When are we going next?" asked Luna.

"I'm not sure," admitted Hermione as she yawned. "The hearing is on Friday and I've another date with Oliver the day after. Neither night would be good."

The nightmares had come back with a vengeance when she'd finally managed to return to sleep. For once, even with the nightmares, she'd managed to sleep for nearly six hours.

"I suppose the weekend after," suggested Luna. "How was the date with Oliver?"

"I'll tell you on the way to the library," said Hermione glancing at her watch. "We're going to be late."

* * *

"Thank yeh fer doin this."

"It's no problem," Irma said to Hagrid as the pair walked through the Ministry of Magic.

The pair had arrived two hours early at Irma's insistence-she'd heard about how the Ministry occasionally tried to change the times and locations of trials. It was all Irma could do to hide her disgust at such tactics.

The hearing got off to a bad start-for Buckbeak, at least. It seemed that Lucius Malfoy was in charge of prosecuting, as the father of the injured boy.

Finally, it was time to begin the defense. Irma cleared her throat and stood.

"Madam, who are you?" asked Walden Macnair, the head of the tribunal.

"I am Irma Pince, the librarian of Hogwarts. Mr. Hagrid has asked me to speak for him in defense of the hippogriff Buckbeak."

"Is this true, Mr. Hagrid?" asked Macnair.

"Yes, sir," said Hagrid.

"You may proceed Madam Pince," said Macnair.

"I have here the sworn statements of several students who witness the incident," explained Irma as she pulled of said papers. "Sworn and witnessed by Headmaster Dumbledore and Deputy Headmistress McGonagal."

Macnair held out his hand, summoning the papers from Irma. "Coninue," he said.

"According to these statements by Miss Hermione Granger, Mr. Blaise Zabini and Miss Lavender Brown, Mr. Hagrid was very clear in his instructions for being in the presence of a hippogriff safely." Irma quickly outlined said instructions and then the words Draco had been heard saying to Buckbeak. "This is not a matter for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, but rather a disciplinary matter."

* * *

Hermione and Luna paled simultaneously at the thunderous expression upon Irma's face. They hesitantly entered her office, the door of which was slammed closed behind them.

"What happened?" asked Hermione.

"Those ingrates completely ignored the evidence," snapped Irma. "They've decided to execute Buckbeak."

"But Malfoy was the one who was wrong, not Buckbeak," protested Hermione.

"I know," sighed Irma, slumping slightly. "Hagrid and I are going to try to appeal, but it may not work." She straightened. "Come on, it's time for a game of Dodge Ball. Remember, no motions at all."


	25. Inquiry

Author's Notes: As I've said before, this story deals with difficult subjects, as this chapter will no doubt reinforce. I should have the next chapter out in a couple days.

* * *

Chapter 24

In deference to the cold, Hermione had dressed warmly and in layers. Luckily, doubling up on pantalettes did not leave marks which reached her outer clothing. She wore her gray wool dress under a dark pink sleeveless overdress. About her waist was a stomacher which she'd changed to a matching gray. Over that she wore a deep, purple robe she'd edged in gray using magic. The robe was meant to be tied shut, so she'd done so with a pink and gray scarf tied about her waist, the ends allowed to trail down her right hip. For once she'd left her hair loose, with only a few, small, strategically place braids to control the wild, curly mass. Over that she wore a wool muffin hat of pink and purple.

She refused to think about how long she and Luna had spent picking out what she would wear with the help of Lavender and Parvati. At least none of the Prefects or Professor McGonagal had realized that Hermione had brought Luna into Gryffindor Tower. For some reason, the rest of the Gryffindors had taken it in stride, almost as if since Luna was so often at their table, despite her blue and bronze tie she might as well be a Gryffindor as well.

Upon seeing the entrance, Hermione pulled up the hood of her cloak. She glanced shyly as Oliver and then back down again. He'd refused to say where in Hogsmeade they were going, claiming it to be a surprise.

Oliver was, Hermione supposed, quite cute, in a burly sort of way. He had dark, almost brown, auburn hair and large brown eyes. He was nearly a foot taller than Hermione, but that was fine with her. At 4'11, nearly everybody was taller than her. Even Luna was three inches taller than she was, and the girl was only twelve.

"So, you never did say which college American football teams you liked," said Oliver as they started on the path toward the front gates.

Hermione quickly began to outline the teams as Oliver listened, obviously interested in her answer. It quickly turned to his favorite football team, as Oliver did not see much American football. By the time they got to the front gate, Hermione had challenged him to a football game. Neither had decided on the day for the game, but they'd decided to recruit any and all interested students and form teams.

The closer they got to the Dementors, the stiffer Hermione became, until even Oliver noticed. He said something, but Hermione couldn't really hear what it was. A moment later he drew his wand and cast a spell. As a silver blur burst from the wand, Hermione felt herself return to the present.

She blinked, noting the silver sheepdog circling about her and Oliver as they continued to walk. It took her a moment to connect what was happening. But before she had a chance to say anything, Oliver had quickly swept her through the gates and away from the Dementors. When the Dementors were a couple hundred feet away, he allowed the patronus to fade.

"Th-thank you," said Hermione, still shaky.

"Are you alright?" Oliver asked gently.

After a moment, Hermione nodded. "I-I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. It's not your fault the Dementors effect you worse than some. Is it always this bad for you?"

Hermione shook her head. "Worse. I was the girl who fainted on the train and at the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game."

Something fierce about his expression, Oliver nodded his understanding.

"So, where are we going?" asked Hermione, desperate to change the subject.

* * *

"So, where did you two go?" demanded Lavender.

"Huh?" asked Hermione.

"You and Oliver!"

"Oh, right," said Hermione. The date had gone quite well-in her opinion. "We went for a hike around Hogsmeade and then to dinner at the Three Broomsticks."

"That's all?" said Parvati, clearly disappointed.

"Well, I rather liked it," snapped Hermione.

* * *

"Would you like to go on a picnic with me on Sunday?"

Hermione looked up from her breakfast. "I'd love to, Oliver. Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise," he said with a slight grin. "I'll meet you in the Common Room at a quarter to twelve."

"I'll see you then."

"What's that about?" asked Ron.

"Oliver and Hermione are dating," said Harry, not bothering to look up from his food.

"They are? Since when?"

"Since the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game," said Luna. She turned to Hermione. "I wouldn't tell Lavender and Parvati."

"Believe me, I've learned my lesson. I'll pick out my own clothing, thank you very much." She paused. "Want to help me figure out what to wear?"

Luna nodded her agreement.

* * *

Hermione paused in the middle of reading. It took her a moment to realize she'd read the same paragraph thrice. Had she even understood a word it had said?

She sighed and shook her head. After standing and stretching, she sat back down to read once more. Hopefully this time she would be able to understand what she was reading.

* * *

"Hullo again, Tweedledee, Tweedledum," said Luna, greeting the goblin guards stationed outside the Fat Lady's portrait. She turned to the portrait. "Good afternoon, milady Valeria."

The strangest part of this incident, reflected Hermione, was that those were actually the names of the goblins and the portrait. Luna had managed to charm and trick the names out of them the week before. And then the goblins nodded at Luna and Hermione felt slightly nauseated. There went any hope of protection from Sirius Black. If Luna could charm the guards like this, then so could the escaped criminal.

"Floberworm," said Hermione as the portrait swung open.

The pair walked into the Gryffindor Common Room, and strait past the people inside as they went up the stairs and into the girls' dormitories. A moment later, they were ensconced within the Third Year girls' room.

"Make yourself at home-that's my bed. I'm going to change out of my school robe."

They'd just finished their Wednesday night lesson with Madam Pince and had decided to go to Gryffindor Tower so that Luna could help her figure out what to wear that Sunday. Hermione pulled her school robe off and brushed out her dress before tying a scarf about her head.

When she turned around, she was alarmed to see a small notebook in Luna's hands. "What are you doing, Lulu? Put that down!"

Luna looked up, slightly sheepish. She quickly closed the book. "Was I not supposed to read that?"

"It was warded and hidden for a reason."

"But why? It's very good poetry."

"You-you think so?"

Luna nodded enthusiastically.

"Which poem were you reading?"

"The third poem in the second section."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The notebook had three sections. The first was for her epic. The third she had recently dedicated to her poetry about the memories the Dementors had recently brought to light. The second was merely poetry about relatively calmer, nicer subjects-although the poems were neither calm nor particularly nice.

"Have you considered trying to get your poetry published?" asked Luna.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I haven't. And I don't have the time to try." She hadn't even had the time to write in nearly two months.

* * *

With a better understanding of how much time they would need, Hermione and Luna set out in search of Dr. MacDougal and Nurse White that Friday evening, around nine. They hoped to be able to return to the school before midnight so that they could get a full night of sleep. After all, they had lessons the next morning.

The pair materialized with a soft pop on the roof of the apartment building Edith White lived in. With a careful unlocking charm upon the door to the stairwell, the two set off in search of their quarry.

"Maybe we should learn to pick locks," said Hermione.

"I believe the twins know how," said Luna.

Hermione sighed. "We can work out a deal with them tomorrow."

Occasionally ducking out of the way to avoid being seen by a resident, Hermione and Luna made their way to apartment 5H. Hermione pulled out her compact with one hand and wand with the other. She carefully unlocked the door and opened it.

There were nobody immediately visible, however it sounded as if the television was on. It was a nice apartment, if a bit on the messy side. Although that was more because of the multitude of toys strewn about the entrance and sitting room than anything else. Hermione carefully motioned toward the toys to Luna. As there were two ways to go, she pointed at Luna and then to the doorway on the left. Then she pointed to herself and the doorway straight ahead. When Luna nodded, the duo split up.

Carefully, Hermione pushed open the door and walked into what had to be the kitchen and dinning room. A quick glance showed that nobody was there. She carefully opened the next door, but saw only the inside of a closet. She moved on to the next door.

This opened to reveal what could only be the living room. With a mental sigh at the sight before her, Hermione opened the compact and blew, careful to ensure with a combination of magic and growing skill that none of the powder touched Edith White. She barely seemed to notice when the man Hermione assumed was her husband stopped snoring as he fell into a deeper sleep or when the teenager upon the floor closed his eyes.

Hermione removed the rope from a pouch. Before Edith had a chance to react, Hermione had tied and gagged her with it using witchcraft. Hermione left the woman there as she went in search of Luna. Hermione eventually found her using the Sands upon the two small children already asleep within their beds. The last thing she or Luna wanted was for anybody to wake up and the situation to get complicated.

"I've already taken care of the others," said Hermione.

"Good," said Luna. She pulled out a self inking quill and a piece of parchment. "You interrogate I write."

Hermione nodded her agreement. The duo made their way back into the living room where Hermione spritzed the woman with memory potion and then removed the gag, setting up a silencing charm around the room. She pulled out a capsule with Veritas Solution in it. Hermione popped it into the mouth as Edith opened it to scream. Edith coughed slightly as she swallowed.

"What is your name?" asked Hermione, testing whether or not the potion had begun to work.

"Edith Penelope White," said Edith, her eyes unfocused.

"Do you remember a patient by the name of Hermione Roseanne Belmont?"

"Yes."

Eyes narrowed, Hermione began to quiz the woman about how she had arrived at the hospital and everything else in between. The answers failed to satisfy her, making her more upset instead. It seemed that Edith believed she'd merely been transferred to another hospital.

* * *

"What is your name?"

"Eileen Sarah MacDougal," said the bound woman, her gaze unfocused.

Hermione sat, perched upon the arm of a couch as she quizzed the woman. Luna was standing nearby, taking notes and standing guard. They'd interrupted a dinner party which had been coming to a close, leading them to knock out nearly fifteen people, the most either had tried to day at once.

"Do you remember a patient by the name of Hermione Roseanne Belmont?"

"Yes."

"What brought this patient to your attention?" asked Hermione.

"I was working the late shift that evening," explained Dr. MacDougal. "She was brought in by the ambulance technicians, who suspected rape. I was called down to emergency because I am a female pediatrician who specializes in adolescent medicine."

"And when you examined this patient?" said Hermione. "What did you find?"

"There was evidence of…" Hermione felt slightly dizzy as she listened to the woman speak, expanding upon what the medical file had said. The woman detailed the injuries, memory aided by the truth potion which gave the woman access to her subconscious.

"Do you know how many assailants there were?" asked Hermione, fighting the urge to throw up or worse.

"No. The police would have had their people test for that."

Hermione spritzed the woman with the memory potion and then hit her with a dose of the Sands before untying her. "Let's go back to school."

"Ash-"

"I-I just don't feel up to dealing with the police as well tonight."

Luna nodded her understanding. The duo apparated out of the suburban house and back into the tunnel to Hogsmeade in unison.


	26. Preparations Part 2

Author's Note: This chapter features a spell from the Goblet of Fire. Since it was not in Latin and Rowling never said where it came from, I have taken that to mean that I can do with it as I please. In this case, what I mean by that should be rather obvious.

Secondly, there is yet another reference in this chapter to what the Dementors made Hermione remember. I won't elaborate at this moment.

Thirdly, this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but this was the best stopping place I could find. I promise my next chapter will be longer.

* * *

Chapter 25

Hermione tilted her head to the side, considering the map before her. "Any idea where we should start to look for Detectives Maxwell and Matthias?"

"Maybe we should scry for them," suggested Luna as she finished changing out of her uniform and into her normal clothing.

"I'll have to look into that," sighed Hermione. "I'll do it after lessons tomorrow."

Luna nodded her agreement. "Erma, do you want to talk about-"

"Please, Lulu. Can't this wait until morning?"

* * *

She looked over her equations carefully, checking for any flaw. Finally satisfied that it was correct, Hermione held out her palm, wand atop it.

Thinking about Harry, she said, "Point me."

The wand spun for a second before settling on the direction of the Quidditch Field, where Harry and the team were practicing. Hermione smiled, satisfied.

She'd originally considered doing this with witchcraft, but had then decided to try her hand at creating a second Wizarding spell. The first Wizarding spell she had created in her first year was one which made self-sustaining balls of blue flame.

This spell would point in the direction of whatever Hermione was thinking of, be it location, object or person-she hoped. Luckily, witchcraft was such that the spell would be child's play to adapt. The only thing to do was continue testing, and perhaps have Harry and Ron try the spell without telling them she had created it.

* * *

"Do you have any chamomile?"

Luna looked up at her sister, confused. "No-I ran out a couple weeks ago."

Hermione let out an expressive stream of curses. "Harry, Ron, do either of you have any chamomile?"

"I have some extra," volunteered Ron.

"May I borrow a teaspoon? I'll replace it next when I get the chance."

"Sure."

"Thanks you," said Hermione, obviously relieved.

"What's going on?" asked Harry as he poked at his brisket.

"I just realized that I'd run out of chamomile," she explained, clearly lying-to Luna at least.

"But that specific an amount implies that you're planning on brewing something," pointed out Luna, suspicious. They'd still not had the conversation Hermione had put off the night before.

"I'm making a potion," Hermione said tightly.

"What potion?" asked Luna before taking a bite of her dinner.

"It's not important."

* * *

"What do we-"

"-Have here?"

"My eyes must-"

"-Be deceiving me."

"A Ravenclaw-"

"-In Gryffindor Tower."

"Tisk tisk."

"Oh, get off it," said Hermione. "Lulu and I need to ask a favor-and in return, we'll let you two in on our next two big… projects."

"What projects?" asked Fred.

"We'll be pranking each House team in turn-but not within a week of their next game," said Luna.

Fred tilted his head to the side, considering as George said, "And the other project?"

"School wide-last day before we leave for summer break. Broadway musical, Hogwarts style," said Hermione. "With Snape and Malfoy as the leads."

"I have no idea-"

"-what you just said-"

"-but we're in."

"Ah ah ah," scolded Hermione. "Not until you do us that one little favor."

"What's the favor, Kitten?"

"Harry said you two taught him to pick locks," explained Hermione. "We want you to teach us how to pick any and every type of lock you know."

"Deal," the twins said in unison.

* * *

She walked down the hall, a large checked blanket in her arms. Beside her walked Oliver, carrying a basket of food scrounged from the kitchens.

"Where are we going?" asked Hermione.

Oliver grinned at her. "Patience. We're almost there."

They were in one of the many little used areas of the castle. The North-East Tower seemed to no longer serve any purpose at all. They climbed to the top of the relatively short tower, pausing at the final level before the roof.

"This way," said Oliver as he walked to the ladder which led to the roof. "Wait down here."

Oliver handed her the basket before climbing up the ladder and out into the open. Hermione was hit by a blast of cold air which was quickly cut off. After several moments, Oliver looked down through the trap door.

"You can come up now," he said. "Hand me the basket and the blanket."

Hermione did as requested and then followed him up the ladder. The tower had a flat roof and battlements, all open to the sky. Yet, it seemed to be in some sort of bubble which warmed the air and protected her and Oliver from the wind and falling snow.

She smiled at him. "I love it. Nice spell work."

The pair quickly set out the blanket and basket of food before settling themselves. Soon enough they were caught up in a conversation about Gryffindor's chances to win and the talent scouts which had been showing up at the games. They spoke of the scouts who had talked to Oliver and the Puddlemere United tryout he was to attend in a couple weeks. And then the conversation turned to other subjects as Oliver broached the subject Hermione had hoped he'd not take notice of.

"… Muggle-Born, but you and Luna look quite alike," explained Oliver.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. "Please, forget you ever thought that."

"What's wrong?" asked Oliver.

"We don't talk about it," Hermione said, thinking quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"It's… well… Lulu and I are related. Distantly. Her mother and my mother were part of the same family," she explained, trying to figure out how to get herself out of this while telling the truth, just in case. "Mom and Grandma have no magic, you see."

"So you're not actually Muggle-Born, then," said Oliver, clearly confused.

"I am," said Hermione, on much more comfortable ground. She'd looked all this up shortly after coming to Hogwarts in her First year and the year before when trying to figure out what was wrong with herself. "You have a squib ancestor somewhere in your family tree as well. All Muggle-Borns are actually the descendants of magic users or magical beings, you see. Most, are descended from squibs who've chosen to go Muggle, but that's not always the case. Our ability to use magic and our magical strength is all genetic."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, squibs are the result of too much inbreeding. Magic users are protected most purebloods from genetic disorders by their magic, but if they become too inbred, they loose magical strength, or are born with the genes, but without the ability to access magic. The genes which enable a person to use magic never leave the bloodline, which is just beyond odd, and against what Muggles know about genetics. So, when a squib marries a Muggle, what happens is that all of his or her descendants will have the genes necessary to use magic, and when they are no long too inbred, that's when a Muggle-Born pops up."

"How do you know all that?"

Hermione shrugged. "I was just curious."

"So purebloods…"

"Are more inbred then the aristocracy."

"That explains a lot."

Hermione fell into helpless giggles at that statement. The pair quickly dove into conversation yet again, Hermione leading it away from Luna and anything which might cause her to make a mistake.

As the sun moved behind the Forbidden Forest, Oliver and Hermione began to pack up the picnic basket. Hermione stiffened as Oliver's arm brushed against her own. She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She bent to fold the blanket, and when she stood, she noticed Oliver standing before her.

Her eyes widened as Oliver lifted his hand to gently cup her chin. The sound of her blood pumping through her veins roared through her ears as he leaned toward her. Hermione felt almost as if she were a statue. She began to shake, ever so slightly when his lips met her own.

For one, horrible moment, it was not Oliver, but somebody else. Somebody bigger and stronger and holding her down so very tightly as the scent of alcohol filled the air.

And then Oliver was back again. It was Oliver, she told herself. Oliver, who had never hurt a girl-at least not at Hogwarts. Oliver, who was not going to hurt her.

"You're shivering," said Oliver. "My spells must be failing. Let's get you inside."

Somewhat dazed, Hermione allowed herself to be led into the castle.

* * *

Carefully, Hermione mixed the liquid in the cauldron before her. It was her eighth batch of dreamless sleep. Unfortunately, each batch did not produce many doses, and she had to make the potion anywhere from once to twice a week. That was why she'd run out of chamomile so quickly. The House-Elves had not had any powdered chamomile.

Hermione picked of the lacewings and barely managed to stop herself from adding them. She scolded herself. She was supposed to add the mint not the lacewings at this stage of brewing.

What was going on with her? She kept making all these sloppy mistakes. She'd not changed her schedule. The workload had not increased all that much. The only thing different was the… was the potion she was taking every night.

Hermione shook her head. Obviously there was something else wrong. It couldn't be because of the Dreamless Sleep potion. She would not let it be because of the potion. It was the only reason she'd didn't fear falling asleep.

* * *

"I've spoken with Aunt Melina and my cousin Kari," said Irma. "When we get to Baltimore this summer, they'll see you two immediately."

"Really?" said Hermione.

"Yes. In all honesty, it's doubtful Kari will be able to help either of you with your memory problems, however, Aunt Melina probably will be able to give you some aid."

"Thank you."

"When are we leaving for Baltimore?"

"I've already gotten arranged for you two to get passports and visas. Our flight leaves Sunday, the twenty seventh of June. We'll be returning to England Tuesday the nineteenth of August. I've already spoken to both your parents and they've agreed to this arrangement."

* * *

Sandy considered the information before him carefully. He should, he knew, be studying for midterms, but in the face of this new information, his studies could wait.

Leila Tisdale was one of several students who did not return to school the September after Erma and Lulu had disappeared, however, unlike those students, she did not transfer. Leila had been in the same class as Lulu, though she was a year older than Erma. However, that was understandable as both Erma and Lulu had skipped three years each.

Leila had left the school to visit her home the same day as Erma and Lulu. However, three weeks later she'd been institutionalized. He'd have to travel to her home city to find more information, but it hopefully wouldn't take that long. Sandy supposed he could do so during spring break, which was coming up in two weeks.

He wasn't sure if Leila had anything to do with what had happened to Erma and Lulu, but he would still investigate. Obviously something had happened to the girl, whether it was a mental breakdown or something else. And if it had anything to do with his baby cousins, he would find out.


End file.
